Bl 



Swinburne's Atalanta in 
Calydon and Erechtheus 

With Notes by Marion Clyde Wier, Ph.D. of the 

Department of Rhetoric in the 

University of Michigan 



GEORGE WAHR, Publisher 
ANN ARBOR 









Copyright 1922 
by George Wahr 

iRANSFERHSO FRO* 
©OPYRWHT OfFlOi 



DEC 12 72 



INTRODUCTION 

This edition of Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
was designed for those students and teachers who are in- 
terested in Swinburne's fondness for Greek literature. No 
attempt has been made to express a critical judgment as 
to his place among the English poets; enough has been 
said and written on that subject to satisfy even the most 
censorious. Nor is there the slightest desire on the part of 
the editor to imply that Swineburne was a plagiarist when 
he made use of the available Greek material that suited his 
purpose. Those who know Greek tragedy realize that his 
work is superior to all but the very best in that field. 
It is hoped that those who have not covered the field may 
get from these pages some information not to be found 
in the usual sources. 



THE ARGUMENT 

Althaea, daughter of Thestius and Eurythemis, queen 
of Calydon, being with child of Meleager her first-born son, 
dreamed that she brought forth a brand burning; and upon 
his birth came the three Fates and prophesied of him three 
things, namely these; that he should have great strength of 
his hands, and good fortune in this life, and that he should 
live no longer when the brand then in the fire were con- 
sumed: wherefore his mother plucked it forth and kept it 
by her. And the child being a man grown sailed with Jason 
after the fleece of gold, and won himself great praise of all 
men living; and when the tribes of the north and west made 
war upon ^Etolia, he fought against their army and scat- 
tered it. But Artemis, having at the first stirred up these 
tribes to war against (Eneus king of Calydon, because he 
had offered sacrifice to all the gods saving her alone, but her 
he had forgotten to honour, was yet more wroth because of 
the destruction of this army, and sent upon the land of 
Calydon a wild boar which slew many and wasted all their 
increase, but him could none slay, and many went against 
him and perished. Then were all the chief men of Greece 
gathered together, and among them Atalanta daughter of 
Iasius the Arcadian, a virgin; for whose sake Artemis let 
slay the boar, seeing she favoured the maiden greatly; and 
Meleager having despatched it gave the spoil thereof to 
Atalanta, as one beyond measure enamoured of her; but 
the brethren of Althaea his mother, Toxeus and Plexippus, 
with such others as misliked that she only should bear off 
the praise whereas many had borne the labour, laid wait 
for her to take away her spoil; but Meleager fought against 
them and slew them: whom when Althaea their sister 



6 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechtheus 

beheld and knew to be slain of her son, she waxed for 
wrath and sorrow like as one mad, and taking the brand 
whereby the measure of her son's life was meted to him, 
she cast it upon a fire; and with the wasting thereof his life 
likewise wasted away, that being brought back to his 
father's house he died in a brief space; and his mother also 
endured not long after for very sorrow; and this was his 
end, and the end of that hunting. 



Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 



PERSONS 

CHIEF HUNTSMAN. 

CHORUS. 

ALTHAEA. 

MELEAGER. 

CENEUS. 

ATALANTA. 

TOXEUS. 

PLEXIPPUS. 

HERALD. 

MESSENGER. 

SECOND MESSENGER. 



8 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechtheus 



laroi 5' ocrris obx inrbTrrepos 

(ppovricnv daeis, 

tclv a iraidokv/jLas raXaiva Gecmas fxyaaTO 

irvpbaf) Tiva irpbvoiav, 

Karaldovaa iraihbs ba<poivbv 

bdhbv ijXiK, kird /xoXcbf 

Harpbdev Kekabrjcrt; 

a\)p.\xerpbv re dial /3t'ou 

ptoipoKpavrov h afjLap. 

JEsch. Cho. 602-612. 



ATALANTA IN CALYDON 

CHIEF HUNTSMAN 

Maiden, and mistress of the months and stars 

Now folded in the flowerless fields of heaven, 

Goddess whom all gods love with threefold heart, 

Being treble in thy divided deity, 

A light for dead men and dark hours, a foot 5 

Swift on the hills as morning, and a hand 

To all things fierce and fleet that roar and range 

Mortal, with gentler shafts than snow or sleep; 

Hear now and help and lift no violent hand, 

But favourable and fair as thine eye's beam 10 

Hidden and shown in heaven; for I all night 

Amid the king's hounds and the hunting men 

Have wrought and worshipped toward thee; nor shall man 

See goodlier hounds or deadlier edge of spears; 

But for the end, that lies unreached as yet 15 

Between the hands and on the knees of gods. 

O fair-faced sun killing the stars and dews 

And dreams and desolation of the night! 

Rise, up, shine, stretch thine hand out, with thy bow 

Touch the most dimmest height of trembling heaven, 20 

And burn and break the dark about thy ways, 

Shot through and through with arrows; let thine hair 

Lighten as flame above that flameless shell 



10 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Which was the moon, and thine eyes fill the world 

And thy lips kindle with swift beams; let earth 

Laugh, and the long sea fiery from thy feet 

Through all the roar and ripple of streaming springs 

And foam in reddening flakes and flying flowers 

Shaken from hands and blown from lips of nymphs 

Whose hair or breast divides the wandering wave 30 

With salt close tresses cleaving lock to lock, 

All gold, or shuddering and unfurrowed snow; 

And all the winds about thee with their wings, 

And fountain-heads of all the watered world; 

Each horn of Achelous, and the green 35 

Euenus, wedded with the straitening sea. 

For in fair time thou comest; come also thou, 

Twin-born with him, and virgin, Artemis, 

And give our spears their spoil, the wild boar's hide, 

Sent in thine anger against us for sin done 40 

And bloodless altars without wine or fire. 

Him now consume thou; for thy sacrifice 

With sanguine-shining steam divides the dawn, 

And one, the maiden rose of all thy maids, 

Arcadian Atalanta, snowy-souled, 45 

Fair as the snow and footed as the wind, 

From Ladon and well-wooded Maenalus 

Over the firm hills and the fleeting sea 

Hast thou drawn hither, and many an armed king, 

Heroes, the crown of men, like gods in fight. 50 

Moreover out of all the ^Etolian land, 

From the full-flowered Lelantian pasturage 

To what of fruitful field the son of Zeus 

Won from the roaring river and labouring sea 

When the wild god shrank in his horn and fled 55 



Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 11 

And foamed and lessened through his wrathful fords 
Leaving clear lands that steamed with sudden sun, 
These virgins with the lightening of the day 
Bring thee fresh wreaths and their own sweeter hair, 
Luxurious locks and flower-like mixed with flowers, 60 
Clean offering, and chaste hymns; but me the time 
Divides from these things; whom do thou not less 
Help and give honour, and to mine hounds good speed, 
And edge to spears, and luck to each man's hand. 

CHORUS 

When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces, 65 

The mother of months in meadow or plain 

Fills the shadows and windy places 

With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; 

And the brown bright nightingale amorous 

Is half assuaged for Itylus, 70 

For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, 
The tongueless vigil, and all the pain. 

Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers, 

Maiden most perfect, lady of light, 
With a noise of winds and many rivers, 75 

With a clamour of waters, and with might; 
Bind on thy sandals, thou most fleet, 
Over the splendour and speed of thy feet; 
For the faint east quickens, the wan west shivers, 

Round the feet of the day and the feet of the night. 80 

Where shall we find her, how shall we sing to her, 

Fold our hands round her knees, and cling? 
O that man's heart were as fire and could spring to her, 



12 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Fire, or the strength of the streams that spring! 
For the stars and the winds are unto her 85 

As raiment, as songs of the harp-player; 
For the risen stars and the fallen cling to her, 

And the southwest-wind and the west- wind sing. 

For winter's rains and ruins are over, 

And all the season of snows and sins; 90 

The days dividing lover and lover, 

The light that loses, the night that wins; 
And time remembered is grief forgotten, 
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, 
And in green underwood and cover 95 

Blossom by blossom the spring begins. 

The full streams feed on flower of rushes, 
Ripe grasses trammel a travelling foot, 

The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes 

From leaf to flower and flower to fruit; 100 

And fruit and leaf are as gold and fire, 

And the oat is heard above the lyre, 

And the hoofed heel of a satyr crushes 

The chestnut-husk at the chestnut-root. 



And Pan by noon and Bacchus by night, 105 

Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid, 
Follows with dancing and fills with delight 

The Maenad and the Bassarid; 
And soft as lips that laugh and hide 

The laughing leaves of the trees divide, 110 

And screen from seeing and leaving in sight 

The god pursuing, the maiden hid. 



Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 13 

The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair 

Over her eyebrows hiding her eyes; 
The wild vine slipping down leaves bare 115 

Her bright breast shortening into sighs; 
The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves, 
But the berried ivy catches and cleaves 
To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare 

The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies. 120 



ALTH^A 

What do ye singing? What is this ye sing? 

CHORUS 

Flowers bring we, and pure lips that please the gods, 
And raiment meet for service: lest the day 
Turn sharp with all its honey in our lips. 

ALTH^A 

Night, a black hound, follows the white fawn day, 125 

Swifter than dreams the white flown feet of sleep; 

Will ye pray back the night with any prayers? 

And though the spring put back a little while 

Winter, and snows that plague all men for sin, 

And the iron time of cursing, yet I know 130 

Spring shall be ruined with the rain, and storm 

Eat up like fire the ashen autumn days. 

I marvel what men do with prayers awake 

Who dream and die with dreaming; any god, 

Yea the least god of all things called divine, 135 

Is more than sleep and waking; yet we say, 

Perchance by praying a man shall match his god. 



14 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechtheus 

For if sleep have no mercy, and man's dreams 

Bite to the blood and burn into the bone, 

What shall this man do waking? By the gods, 140 

He shall not pray to dream sweet things to-night, 

Having dreamt once more bitter things than death. 

CHORUS 

Queen, but what is it that hath burnt thine heart? 
For thy speech flickers like a blown-out flame. 

ALTH^A 

Look, ye say well, and know not what ye say; 145 

For all my sleep is turned into a fire, 
And all my dreams to stuff that kindles it. 

CHORUS 

Yet one doth well being patient of the gods. 

ALTH^A 

Yea, lest they smite us with some four-foot plague. 

CHORUS 

But when time spreads find out some herb for it. 150 

ALTH^A 

And with their healing herbs infect our blood. 

CHORUS 

What ails thee to be jealous of their ways? 



Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 15 

ALTH^A 

What if they give us poisonous drinks for wine? 

CHORUS 

They have their will; much talking mends it not. 

ALTH^A 

And gall for milk, and cursing for a prayer? 155 

CHORUS 

Have they not given life, and the end of life? 

ALTH^A 

Lo, where they heal, they help not; thus they do, 

They mock us with a little piteousness, 

And we say prayers and weep; but at the last, 

Sparing awhile, they smite and spare no whit. 160 

CHORUS 

Small praise man gets dispraising the high gods: 
What have they done that thou dishonourest them? 

ALTH^A 

First Artemis for all this harried land 

I praise not, and for wasting of the boar 

That mars with tooth and tusk and fiery feet 165 

Green pasturage and the grace of standing corn 

And meadow and marsh with springs and unblown leaves, 



16 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Flocks and swift herds and all that bite sweet grass, 
I praise her not; what things are these to praise? 

CHORUS 

But when the king did sacrifice, and gave 170 

Each god fair dues of wheat and blood and wine, 

Her not with bloodshed nor burnt-offering 

Revered he, nor with salt or cloven cake; 

Wherefore being wroth she plagued the land; but now 

Takes off from us fate and her heavy things. 175 

Which deed of these twain were not good to praise? 

For a just deed looks always either way 

With blameless eyes, and mercy is no fault. 



ALTH^A 

Yea, but a curse she hath sent above all these 
To hurt us where she healed us; and hath lit 180 

Fire where the old fire went out, and where the wind 
Slackened, hath blown on us with deadlier air. 



CHORUS 

What storm is this that tightens all our sail? 

ALTH^A 

Love, a thwart sea-wind full of rain and foam. 

CHORUS 

Whence blown, and born under what stormier star? 185 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 17 

ALTHAEA 

Southward across Euenus from the sea. 

CHORUS 

Thy speech turns toward Arcadia like blown wind. 

ALTH^A 

Sharp as the north sets when the snows are out. 

CHORUS 

Nay, for this maiden hath no touch of love. 

ALTH^A 

I would she had sought in some cold gulf of sea 190 

Love, or in dens where strange beasts lurk, or fire, 

Or snows on the extreme hills, or iron land 

Where no spring is; I would she had sought therein 

And found, or ever love had found her here. 

CHORUS 

She is holier than all holy days or things, 195 

The sprinkled water or fume of perfect fire; 

Chaste, dedicated to pure prayers, and filled 

With higher thoughts than heaven; a maiden clean, 

Pure iron, fashioned for a sword; and man 

She loves not; what should one such do with love? 200 



18 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

ALTHAEA 

Look you, I speak not as one light of wit, 

But as a queen speaks, being heart- vexed; for oft 

I hear my brothers wrangling in mid hall, 

And am not moved; and my son chiding them, 

And these things nowise move me, but I know 205 

Foolish and wise men must be to the end, 

And feed myself with patience; but this most, 

This moves me, that for wise men as for fools 

Love is one thing, an evil thing, and turns 

Choice words and wisdom into fire and air. 210 

And in the end shall no joy come, but grief, 

Sharp words and soul's division and fresh tears 

Flower-wise upon the old root of tears brought forth, 

Fruit-wise upon the old flower of tears sprung up, 

Pitiful sighs, and much regrafted pain. 215 

These things are in my presage, and myself 

Am part of them and know not; but in dreams 

The gods are heavy on me, and all the fates 

Shed fire across my eyelids mixed with night, 

And burn me blind, and disilluminate 220 

My sense of seeing, and my perspicuous soul 

Darken with vision; seeing I see not, hear 

And hearing am not holpen, but mine eyes 

Stain many tender broideries in the bed 

Drawn up about my face that I may weep 225 

And the king wake not; and my brows and lips 

Tremble and sob in sleeping, like swift flames 

That tremble, or water when it sobs with heat 

Kindled from under; and my tears fill my breast 

And speck the fair dyed pillows round the king 230 



Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 19 

With barren showers and Salter than the sea, 

Such dreams divide me dreaming; for long since 

I dreamed that out of this my womb had sprung 

Fire and a firebrand; this was ere my son, 

Meleager, a goodly flower in fields of fight, 235 

Felt the light touch him coming forth, and wailed 

Childlike; but yet he was not; and in time 

I bare him, and my heart was great; for yet 

So royally was never strong man born, 

Nor queen so nobly bore as noble a thing 240 

As this my son was: such a birth God sent 

And such a grace to bear it. Then came in 

Three weaving women, and span each a thread, 

Saying This for strength and That for luck, and one 

Saying Till the brand upon the hearth burn down 245 

So long shall this man see good days and live. 

And I with gathered raiment from the bed 

Sprang, and drew forth the brand, and cast on it 

Water, and trod the flame bare-foot, and crushed 

With naked hand spark beaten out of spark 250 

And blew against and quenched it; for I said, 

These are the most high Fates that dwell with us, 

And we find favour a little in their sight, 

A little, and more we miss of, and much time 

Foils us; howbeit they have pitied me, O Son, 255 

And thee most piteous, thee a tenderer thing 

Than any flower of fleshly seed alive. 

Wherefore I kissed and hid him with my hands, 

And covered under arms and hair, and wept, 

And feared to touch him with my tears, and laughed ; 260 

So light a thing was this man, grown so great 

Men cast their heads back, seeing against the sun 



20 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Blaze the armed man carven on his shield, and hear 

The laughter of little bells along the brace 

Ring, as birds singing or flutes blown, and watch, 265 

High up, the cloven shadow of either plume 

Divide the bright light of the brass, and make 

His helmet as a windy and wintering moon 

Seen through blown cloud and plume-like drift, when ships 

Drive, and men strive with all the sea, and oars 270 

Break, and the beaks dip under, drinking death; 

Yet was he then but a span long, and moaned 

With inarticulate mouth inseparate words, 

And with blind lips and fingers wrung my breast 

Hard, and thrust out with foolish hands and feet, 275 

Murmuring; but those grey women with bound hair 

Who fright the gods frighted not him; he laughed 

Seeing them, and pushed out hands to feel and haul 

Distaff and thread, intangible; but they 

Passed, and I hid the brand, and in my heart 280 

Laughed likewise, having all my will of heaven. 

But now I know not if to left or right 

The gods have drawn us hither; for again 

I dreamt, and saw the black brand burst on fire 

As a branch bursts in flower, and saw the flame 285 

Fade flower-wise, and Death came and with dry lips 

Blew the charred ash into my breast; and Love 

Trampled the ember and crushed it with swift feet. 

This I have also at heart; that not for me, 

Not for me only or son of mine, O girls, 290 

The gods have wrought life, and desire of life, 

Heart's love and heart's division; but for all 

There shines one sun and one wind blows till night. 

And when night comes the wind sinks and the sun, 



Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthetts 21 

And there is no light after, and no storm, 295 

But sleep and much forgetfulness of things. 

In such wise I gat knowledge of the gods 

Years hence, and heard high sayings of one most wise, 

Eurythemis my mother, who beheld 

With eyes alive and spake with lips of these 300 

As one on earth disfleshed and disallied 

From breath or blood corruptible; such gifts 

Time gave her, and an equal soul to these 

And equal face to all things; thus she said. 

But whatsoever intolerable or glad 305 

The swift hours weave and unweave, I go hence 

Full of mine own soul, perfect of myself, 

Toward mine and me sufficient; and what chance 

The gods cast lots for and shake out on us, 

That shall we take, and that much bear withal. 310 

And now, before these gather to the hunt, 

I will go arm my son and bring him forth, 

Lest love or some man's anger work him harm. 



CHORUS 

Before the beginning of years 

There came to the making of man 315 

Time, with a gift of tears; 

Grief, with a glass that ran; 
Pleasure, with pain for leaven; 

Summer, with flowers that fell; 
Remembrance fallen from heaven, 320 

And madness risen from hell; 
Strength without hands to smite; 

Love that endures for a breath: 



22 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Night, the shadow of light, 

And life, the shadow of death. 325 

And the high gods took in hand 

Fire, and the falling of tears, 
And a measure of sliding sand 

From under the feet of the years; 
And froth and drift of the sea; 330 

And dust of the labouring earth; 
And bodies of things to be 

In the houses of death and of birth; 
And wrought with weeping and laughter, 

And fashioned with loathing and love, 335 

With life before and after 

And death beneath and above, 
For a day and a night and a morrow, 

That his strength might endure for a span 
With travail and heavy sorrow, 340 

The holy spirit of man. 

From the winds of the north and the south 

They gathered as unto strife; 
They breathed upon his mouth, 

They filled his body with life; 345 

Eyesight and speech they wrought 

For the veils of the soul therein, 
A time for labour and thought, 

A time to serve and to sin; 
They gave him light in his ways, 350 

And love, and a space for delight, 
And beauty and length of days, 

And night, and sleep in the night. 
His speech is a burning fire; 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 23 

With his lips he travaileth; 355 

In his heart is a blind desire, 

In his eyes foreknowledge of death; 
He weaves, and is clothed with derision; 

Sows, and he shall not reap; 
His life is a watch or a vision, 360 

Between a sleep and a sleep. 

MELEAGER 

O sweet new heaven and air without a star, 

Fair day, be fair and welcome, as to men 

With deeds to do and praise to pluck from thee. 

Come forth a child, born with clear sound and light, 365 

With laughter and swift limbs and prosperous looks; 

That this great hunt with heroes for the hounds 

May leave thee memorable and us well sped. 

ALTHAEA 

Son, first I praise thy prayer, then bid thee speed; 

But the gods hear men's hands before their lips, 370 

And heed beyond all crying and sacrifice 

Light of things done and noise of labouring men. 

But thou, being armed and perfect for the deed, 

Abide; for like rain-flakes in a wind they grow, 

The men thy fellows, and the choice of the world, 375 

Bound to root out the tusked plague, and leave 

Thanks and safe days and peace in Calydon. 

MELEAGER 

For the whole city and all the low-lying land 

Flames, and the soft air sounds with them that come; 

The gods give all these fruit of all their works. 380 



24 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

ALTH^A 

Set thine eye thither and fix thy spirit and say 
Whom there thou knowest; for sharp mixed shadow and 

wind 
Blown up between the morning and the mist, 
With steam of steeds and flash of bridle or wheel, 
And fire, and parcels of the broken dawn, 385 

And dust divided by hard light, and spears 
That shine and shift as the edge of wild beasts' eyes, 
Smite upon mine; so fiery their blind edge 
Burns, and bright points break up and baffle day. 

MELEAGER 

The first, for many I know not, being far off, 390 

Peleus the Larissaean, couched with whom 

Sleeps the white sea-bred wife and silver-shod, 

Fair as fled foam, a goddess; and their son 

Most swift and splendid of men's children born, 

Most like a god, full of the future fame. 395 

ALTH^A 

Who are these shining like one sundered star? 

MELEAGER 

Thy sister's sons, a double flower of men. 

ALTH^A 

O sweetest kin to me in all the world, 

O twin-born blood of Leda, gracious heads 

Like kindled lights in untempestuous heaven, 400 

Fair flower-like stars on the iron foam of fight, 



Swinburne'' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 25 

With what glad heart and kindliness of soul, 

Even to the staining of both eyes with tears 

And kindling of warm eyelids with desire, 

A great way off I greet you, and rejoice 405 

Seeing you so fair, and moulded like as gods. 

Far off ye come, and least in years of these, 

But lordliest, but worth love to look upon. 

MELEAGER 

Even such (for sailing hither I saw far hence, 

And where Eurotas hollows his moist rock 410 

Nigh Sparta with a strenuous-hearted stream) 

Even such I saw their sisters; one swan- white, 

The little Helen, and less fair than she 

Fair Clytaemnestra, grave as pasturing fawns 

Who feed and fear some arrow; but at whiles, 415 

As one smitten with love or wrung with joy, 

She laughs and lightens with her eyes, and then 

Weeps; whereat Helen, having laughed, weeps too, 

And the other chides her, and she being chid speaks 

nought, 
But cheeks and lips and eyelids kisses her, 420 

Laughing; so fare they, as in their bloomless bud 
And full of unblown life, the blood of gods. 

ALTH^A 

Sweet days befall them and good loves and lords, 
And tender and temperate honours of the hearth, 
Peace, and a perfect life and blameless bed. 425 

But who shows next an eagle wrought in gold, 
That flames and beats broad wings against the sun 
And with void mouth gapes after emptier prey? 



26 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 



MELEAGER 



Know by that sign the reign of Telamon 

Between the fierce mouths of the encountering brine 430 

On the strait reefs of twice-washed Salamis. 



ALTH^A 

For like one great of hand he bears himself, 

Vine-chapleted, with savours of the sea, 

Glittering as wine and moving as a wave. 

But who girt round there roughly follows him? 435 



MELEAGER 

Ancaeus, great of hand, an iron bulk, 

Two-edged for fight as the axe against his arm, 

Who drives against the surge of stormy spears 

Full-sailed; him Cepheus follows, his twin-born, 

Chief name next his of all Arcadian men. 440 



ALTHAEA 

Praise be with men abroad; chaste lives with us, 
Home-keeping days and household reverences. 

MELEAGER 

Next by the left unsandalled foot know thou 

The sail and oar of this ^Etolian land, 

Thy brethren, Toxeus and the violent-souled 445 

Plexippus, over-swift with hand and tongue; 

For hands are fruitful, but the ignorant mouth 

Blows and corrupts their work with barren breath. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 27 

ALTH^A 

Speech too bears fruit, being worthy; and air blows down 
Things poisonous, and high-seated violences, 450 

And with charmed words and songs have men put out 
Wild evil, and the fire of tyrannies. 

MELEAGER 

Yea, all things have they, save the gods and love. 

ALTH^A 

Love thou the law and cleave to things ordained. 

MELEAGER 

Law lives upon their lips whom these applaud. 455 

ALTHAEA 

How sayest thou these? what god applauds new things? 

MELEAGER 

Zeus, who hath fear and custom under foot. 

ALTH^A 

But loves not laws thrown down and lives awry. 

MELEAGER 

Yet is not less himself than his own law. 

ALTHAEA 

Nor shifts and shuffles old things up and down. 460 



28 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

MELEAGER 

But what he will remoulds and discreates. 

ALTH^A 

Much, but not this, that each thing live its life. 

MELEAGER 

Nor only live, but lighten and lift up higher. 

ALTH^A 

Pride breaks itself, and too much gained is gone. 

MELEAGER 

Things gained are gone, but great things done endure. 465 

althaea 

Child, if a man serve law through all his life 

And with his whole heart worship, him all gods 

Praise; but who loves it only with his lips, 

And not in heart and deed desiring it 

Hides a perverse will with obsequious words, 470 

Him heaven infatuates and his twin-born fate 

Tracks, and gains on him, scenting sins far off, 

And the swift hounds of violent death devour. 

Be man at one with equal-minded gods, 

So shall he prosper; not through laws torn up, 475 

Violated rule and a new face of things. 

A woman armed makes war upon herself, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 29 

Unwomanlike, and treads down use and wont 

And the sweet common honour that she hath, 

Love, and the cry of children, and the hand 480 

Trothplight and mutual mouth of marriages. 

This doth she, being unloved; whom if one love, 

Not fire nor iron and the wide-mouthed wars 

Are deadlier than her lips or braided hair. 

For of the one comes poison, and a curse 485 

Falls from the other and burns the lives of men. 

But thou, son, be not filled with evil dreams, 

Nor with desire of these things; for with time 

Blind love burns out; but if one feed it full 

Till some discolouring stain dyes all his life, 490 

He shall keep nothing praiseworthy, nor die 

The sweet wise death of old men honourable, 

Who have lived out all the length of all their years 

Blameless, and seen well-pleased the face of gods, 

And without shame and without fear have wrought 495 

Things memorable, and while their days held out 

In sight of all men and the sun's great light 

Have gat them glory and given of their own praise 

To the earth that bare them and the day that bred, 

Home friends and far-off hospitalities, 500 

And filled with gracious and memorial fame 

Lands loved of summer or washed by violent seas, 

Towns populous and many unfooted ways, 

And alien lips and native with their own. 

But when white age and venerable death 505 

Mow down the strength and life within their limbs, 

Drain out the blood and darken their clear eyes, 

Immortal honour is on them, having past 

Through splendid life and death desirable 



30 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

To the clear seat and remote throne of souls, 510 

Lands indiscoverable in the unheard-of west, 

Round which the strong stream of a sacred sea 

Rolls without wind for ever, and the snow 

There shows not her white wings and windy feet, 

Nor thunder nor swift rain saith anything, 515 

Nor the sun burns, but all things rest and thrive; 

And these, filled full of days, divine and dead, 

Sages and singers fiery from the god, 

And such as loved their land and all things good 

And, best beloved of best men, liberty, 520 

Free lives and lips, free hands of men free-born, 

And whatsoever on earth was honourable 

And whosoever of all the ephemeral seed, 

Live there a life no liker to the gods 

But nearer than their life of terrene days. 525 

Love thou such life and look for such a death. 

But from the light and fiery dreams of love 

Spring heavy sorrows and a sleepless life, 

Visions not dreams, whose lids no charm shall close 

Nor song assuage them waking; and swift death 530 

Crushes with sterile feet the unripening ear, 

Treads out the timeless vintage; whom do thou 

Eschewing embrace the luck of this thy life, 

Not without honour; and it shall bear to thee 

Such fruit as men reap from spent hours and wear, 535 

Few men, but happy; of whom be thou, O son, 

Happiest, if thou submit thy soul to fate, 

And set thine eyes and heart on hopes high-born 

And divine deeds and abstinence divine. 

So shalt thou be toward all men all thy days 540 

As light and might communicable, and burn 



Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 31 

From heaven among the stars above the hours, 

And break not as a man breaks nor burn down. 

For to whom other of all heroic names 

Have the gods given his life in hand as thine? 545 

And gloriously hast thou lived, and made thy life 

To me that bare thee and to all men born 

Thankworthy, a praise for ever; and hast won fame 

When wild wars broke all round thy father's house, 

And the mad people of windy mountain ways 550 

Laid spears against us like a sea, and all 

^Etolia thundered with Thessalian hoofs; 

Yet these, as wind baffles the foam, and beats 

Straight back the relaxed ripple, didst thou break 

And loosen all their lances, till undone 555 

And man from man they fell; for ye twain stood 

God against god, Ares and Artemis, 

And thou the mightier; wherefore she unleashed 

A sharp-toothed curse thou too shalt overcome; 

For in the greener blossom of thy life 560 

Ere the full blade caught flower, and when time gave 

Respite, thou didst not slacken soul nor sleep, 

But with great hand and heart seek praise of men 

Out of sharp straits and many a grievous thing, 

Seeing the strange foam of undivided seas, 565 

On channels never sailed in, and by shores 

Where the old winds cease not blowing, and all the night 

Thunders, and day is no delight to men. 

CHORUS 

Meleager, a noble wisdom and fair words 

The gods have given this woman; hear thou these. 570 



32 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

MELEAGER 

mother, I am not fain to strive in speech 
Nor set my mouth against thee, who art wise 
Even as they say and full of sacred words. 

But one thing I know surely, and cleave to this; 
That though I be not subtle of wit as thou 575 

Nor womanlike to weave sweet words, and melt 
Mutable minds of wise men as with fire, 

1 too, doing justly and reverencing the gods, 
Shall not want wit to see what things be right. 

For whom they love and whom reject, being gods, 580 

There is no man but seeth, and in good time 

Submits himself, refraining all his heart. 

And I too as thou sayest have seen great things; 

Seen otherwhere, but chiefly when the sail 

First caught between stretched ropes the roaring west, 585 

And all our oars smote eastward, and the wind 

First flung round faces of seafaring men 

White splendid snow-flakes of the sundering foam, 

And the first furrow in virginal green sea 

Followed the plunging ploughshare of hewn pine, 590 

And closed, as when deep sleep subdues man's breath 

Lips close and heart subsides; and closing, shone 

Sunlike with many a Nereid's hair, and moved 

Round many a trembling mouth of doubtful gods, 

Risen out of sunless and sonorous gulfs 595 

Through waning water and into shallow light, 

That watched us; and when flying the dove was snared 

As with men's hands, but we shot after and sped 

Clear through the irremeable Symplegades; 

And chiefliest when hoar beach and herbless cliff 600 

Stood out ahead from Colchis, and we heard 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 33 

Clefts hoarse with wind, and saw through narrowing reefs 
The lightning of the intolerable wave 
Flash, and the white wet flame of breakers burn 
Far under a kindling south-wind, as a lamp 605 

Burns and bends all its blowing flame one way; 
Wild heights untravelled of the wind, and vales 
Cloven seaward by their violent streams, and white 
With bitter flowers and bright salt scurf of brine; 
Heard sweep their sharp swift gales, and bowing bird- 
wise 610 
Shriek with birds' voices, and with furious feet 
Tread loose the long skirts of a storm; and saw 
The whole wh ite Euxine clash together and fall 
Full-mouthed, and thunderous from a thousand throats: 
Yet we drew thither and won the fleece and won 615 
Medea, deadlier than the sea; but there 
Seeing many a wonder and fearful things to men 
I saw not one thing like this one seen here, 
Most fair and fearful, feminine, a god, 
Faultless; whom I that love not, being unlike, 620 
Fear, and give honour, and choose from all the gods. 

CENEUS 

Lady, the daughter of Thestius, and thou, son, 
Not ignorant of your strife nor light of wit, 
Scared with vain dreams and fluttering like spent fire, 
I come to judge between you, but a king 625 

Full of past days and wise from years endured. 
Nor thee I praise, who art fain to undo things done: 
Nor thee, who art swift to esteem them overmuch. 
For what the hours have given is given, and this 
Changeless; howbeit these change, and in good time 630 
Devise new things and good, not one thing still. 



34 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Us have they sent now at our need for help 

Among men armed a woman, foreign born, 

Virgin, not like the natural flower of things 

That grows and bears and brings forth fruit and dies ; 635 

Unlovable, no light for a husband's house, 

Espoused; a glory among unwedded girls, 

And chosen of gods who reverence maidenhood. 

These too we honour in honouring her; but thou, 

Abstain thy feet from following, and thine eyes 640 

From amorous touch; nor set toward hers thine heart, 

Son, lest hate bear no deadlier fruit than love. 

ALTH^A 

O king, thou art wise, but wisdom halts; and just, 

But the gods love not justice more than fate, 

And smite the righteous and the violent mouth, 645 

And mix with insolent blood the reverent man's, 

And bruise the holier as the lying lips. 

Enough; for wise words fail me, and my heart 

Takes fire and trembles namewise, O my son, 

child, for thine head's sake; mine eyes wax thick, 650 
Turning toward thee, so goodly a weaponed man, 

So glorious; and for love of thine own eyes 

They are darkened, and tears burn them, fierce as fire, 

And my lips pause and my soul sinks with love. 

But by thine hand, by thy sweet life and eyes, 655 

By thy great heart and these clasped knees, O son, 

1 pray thee that thou slay me not with thee. 
For there was never a mother woman-born 
Loved her sons better; and never a queen of men 

More perfect in her heart toward whom she loved. 660 
For what lies light on many and they forget, 



Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 35 

Small things and transitory as a wind o' the sea, 

I forget never; I have seen thee all thine years 

A man in arms, strong and a joy to men 

Seeing thine head glitter and thine hand burn its way 665 

Through a heavy and iron furrow of sundering spears; 

But always also a flower of three suns old, 

The small one thing that lying drew down my life 

To lie with thee and feed thee; a child and weak, 

Mine, a delight to no man, sweet to me. 670 

Who then sought to thee? who gat help? who knew 

If thou wert goodly? nay, no man at all. 

Or what sea saw thee, or sounded with thine oar, 

Child? or what strange land shone with war through thee? 

But fair for me thou wert, O little life, 675 

Fruitless, the fruit of mine own flesh, and blind, 

More than much gold, ungrown, a foolish flower. 

For silver nor bright snow nor feather of foam 

Was whiter, and no gold yellower than thine hair, 

child, my child; and now thou art lordlier grown, 680 
Not lovelier, nor a new thing in mine eyes, 

1 charge thee by thy soul and this my breast, 
Fear thou the gods and me and thine own heart, 
Lest all these turn against thee; for who knows 

What wind upon what wave of altering time 685 

Shall speak a storm and blow calamity? 

And there is nothing stabile in the world 

But the gods break it; yet not less, fair son, 

If but one thing be stronger, if one endure, 

Surely the bitter and the rooted love 690 

That burns between us, going from me to thee, 

Shall more endure than all things. What dost thou, 

Following strange loves? why wilt thou kill mine heart? 



36 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Lo, I talk wild and windy words, and fall 

From my clear wits, and seem of mine own self 695 

Dethroned, dispraised, disseated; and my mind, 

That was my crown, breaks, and mine heart is gone, 

And I am naked of my soul, and stand 

Ashamed, as a mean woman; take thou thought: 

Live if thou wilt, and if thou wilt not, look, 700 

The gods have given thee life to lose or keep, 

Thou shalt not die as men die, but thine end 

Fallen upon thee shall break me unaware. 

MELEAGER 

Queen, my whole heart is molten with thy tears, 

And my limbs yearn with pity of thee, and love 705 

Compels with grief mine eyes and labouring breath; 

For what thou art I know thee, and this thy breast 

And thy fair eyes I worship, and am bound 

Toward thee in spirit and love thee in all my soul. 

For there is nothing terribler to men 710 

Than the sweet face of mothers, and the might. 

But what shall be let be; for us the day 

Once only lives a little, and is not found. 

Time and the fruitful hour are more than we, 

And these lay hold upon us; but thou, God, 715 

Zeus, the sole steersman of the helm of things, 

Father, be swift to see us, and as thou wilt 

Help: or if adverse, as thou wilt, refrain. 

CHORUS 

We have seen thee, Love, thou art fair; thou art goodly, 
O Love; 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 37 

Thy wings make light in the air as the wings of a dove. 720 
Thy feet are as winds that divide the stream of the sea; 
Earth is thy covering to hide thee, the garment of thee. 
Thou art swift and subtle and blind as a flame of fire; 
Before thee the laughter, behind thee the tears of desire; 
And twain go forth beside thee, a man with a maid; 725 
Her eyes are the eyes of a bride whom delight makes 

afraid; 
As the breath in the buds that stir is her bridal breath: 
But Fate is the name of her; and his name is Death. 



For an evil blossom was born 

Of sea-foam and the frothing of blood, 730 

Blood-red and bitter of fruit, 

And the seed of it laughter and tears, 
And the leaves of it madness and scorn; 
A bitter flower from the bud, 

Sprung of the sea without root, 735 

Sprung without graft from the years. 

The weft of the world was untorn 

That is woven of the day on the night, 

The hair of the hours was not white 
Nor the raiment of time overworn, 740 

When a wonder, a world's delight, 
A perilous goddess was born; 

And the waves of the sea as she came 
Clove, and the foam at her feet, 

Fawning, rejoiced to bring forth 745 

A fleshly blossom, a flame 
Filling the heavens with heat 

To the cold white ends of the north. 



38 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

And in air the clamorous birds, 

And men upon earth that hear 750 

Sweet articulate words 

Sweetly divided apart, 
And in shallow and channel and mere 
The rapid and footless herds, 

Rejoiced, being foolish of heart. 755 

For all they said upon earth, 

She is fair, she is white like a dove, 
And the life of the world in her breath 
Breathes, and is born at her birth; 

For they knew thee for mother of love, 760 

And knew thee not mother of death. 

What hadst thou to do being born, 

Mother, when winds were at ease, 
As a flower of the springtime of corn, 

A flower of the foam of the seas? 765 

For bitter thou wast from thy birth, 

Aphrodite, a mother of strife; 
For before thee some rest was on earth, 
A little respite from tears, 
A little pleasure of life; 770 

For life was not then as thou art, 
But as one that waxeth in years 
Sweet-spoken, a fruitful wife; 
Earth had no thorn, and desire 
No sting, neither death any dart; 775 

What hadst thou to do amongst these, 
Thou, clothed with a burning fire, 
Thou, girt with sorrow of heart, 

Thou, sprung of the seed of the seas 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 39 

As an ear from a seed of corn, 780 

As a brand plucked forth of a pyre, 
As a ray shed forth of the morn, 

For division of soul and disease, 
For a dart and a sting and a thorn? 
What ailed thee then to be born? 785 

Was there not evil enough, 
Mother, and anguish on earth 
Born with a man at his birth, 
Wastes underfoot, and above 

Storm out of heaven, and dearth 790 

Shaken down from the shining thereof, 
Wrecks from afar overseas 
And peril of shallow and firth, 

And tears that spring and increase 
In the barren places of mirth, 795 

That thou, having wings as a dove, 
Being girt with desire for a girth, 
That thou must come after these, 
That thou must lay on him love? 

Thou shouldst not so have been born: 800 

But death should have risen with thee, 
Mother, and visible fear, 

Grief, and the wringing of hands, 
And noise of many that mourn; 

The smitten bosom, the knee 805 

Bowed, and in each man's ear 
A cry as of perishing lands, 
A moan as of people in prison, 
A tumult of infinite griefs; 



40 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

And thunder of storm on the sands, 810 

And wailing of wives on the shore; 
And under thee newly arisen 

Loud shoals and shipwrecking reefs, 

Fierce air and violent light; 
Sail rent and sundering oar, 815 

Darkness, and noises of night; 
Clashing of streams in the sea, 
Wave against wave as a sword, 
Clamour of currents, and foam; 

Rains making ruin on earth, 820 

Winds that wax ravenous and roam 
As wolves in a wolfish horde; 
Fruits growing faint in the tree, 

And blind things dead in their birth; 
Famine, and blighting of corn, 825 

When thy time was come to be born. 

All these we know of; but thee 
Who shall discern or declare? 
In the uttermost ends of the sea 

The light of thine eyelids and hair, 830 

The light of thy bosom as fire 
Between the wheel of the sun 
And the flying flames of the air? 

Wilt thou turn thee not yet nor have pity, 
But abide with despair and desire 835 

And the crying of armies undone, 

Lamentation of one with another, 
And breaking of city by city; 
The dividing of friend against friend, 

The severing of brother and brother; 840 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 41 

Wilt thou utterly bring to an end? 
Have mercy, mother! 

For against all men from of old 
Thou hast set thine hand as a curse, 

And cast out gods from their places. 845 

These things are spoken of thee. 
Strong kings and goodly with gold 
Thou hast found out arrows to pierce, 
And made their kingdoms and races 

As dust and surf of the sea. 850 

All these, overburdened with woes 

And with length of their days waxen weak, 
Thou slewest; and sentest moreover 
Upon Tyro an evil thing, 
Rent hair and a fetter and blows 855 

Making bloody the flower of the cheek, 
Though she lay by a god as a lover, 
Though fair, and the seed of a king. 
For of old, being full of thy fire, 

She endured not longer to wear 860 

On her bosom a saffron vest, 

On her shoulder an ashwood quiver; 
Being mixed and made one through desire 
With Enipeus, and all her hair 

Made moist with his mouth, and her breast 865 
Filled full of the foam of the river. 

ATALANTA 

Sun, and clear light among green hills, and day 
Late risen and long sought after, and you just gods 
Whose hands divide anguish and recompense, 



42 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

But first the sun's white sister, a maid in heaven, 870 

On earth of all maids worshipped — hail, and hear, 

And witness with me if not without sign sent, 

Not without rule and reverence, I a maid 

Hallowed, and huntress holy as whom I serve, 

Here in your sight and eyeshot of these men 875 

Stand, girt as they toward hunting, and my shafts 

Drawn; wherefore all ye stand up on my side, 

If I be pure and all ye righteous gods, 

Lest one revile me, a woman, yet no wife, 

That bear a spear for spindle, and this bow strung 880 

For a web woven; and with pure lips salute 

Heaven, and the face of all the gods, and dawn 

Filling with maiden flames and maiden flowers 

The starless fold o' the stars, and making sweet 

The warm wan heights of the air, moon-trodden ways 885 

And breathless gates and extreme hills of heaven. 

Whom, having offered water and bloodless gifts, 

Flowers, and a golden circlet of pure hair, 

Next Artemis I bid be favourable 

And make this day all golden, hers and ours, 890 

Gracious and good and white to the unblamed end. 

But thou, O well-beloved, of all my days 

Bid it be fruitful, and a crown for all, 

To bring forth leaves and bind round all my hair 

With perfect chaplets woven for thine of thee. 895 

For not without the word of thy chaste mouth, 

For not without law given and clean command, 

Across the white straits of the running sea 

From Elis even to the Acheloian horn, 

I with clear winds came hither and gentle gods, 900 

Far off my father's house, and left uncheered 



Swinburne'' s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 43 

Iasius, and uncheered the Arcadian hills 

And all their green-haired waters, and all woods 

Disconsolate, to hear no horn of mine 

Blown, and behold no flash of swift white feet. 905 

MELEAGER 

For thy name's sake and awe toward thy chaste head, 

O holiest Atalanta, no man dares 

Praise thee, though fairer than whom all men praise, 

And godlike for thy grace of hallowed hair 

And holy habit of thine eyes, and feet 910 

That make the blown foam neither swift nor white 

Though the wind winnow and whirl it; yet we praise 

Gods, found because of thee adorable 

And for thy sake praiseworthiest from all men: 

Thee therefore we praise also, thee as these, 915 

Pure, and a light lit at the hands of gods. 

TOXEUS 

How long will ye whet spears with eloquence, 
Fight, and kill beasts dry-handed with sweet words? 
Cease, or talk still and slay thy boars at home. 

PLEXIPPUS 

Why, if she ride among us for a man, 920 

Sit thou for her and spin; a man grown girl 
Is worth a woman weaponed; sit thou here. 

MELEAGER 

Peace, and be wise; no gods love idle speech. 



44 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

PLEXIPPUS 

Nor any man a man's mouth woman-tongued. 

MELEAGER 

For my lips bite not sharper than mine hands. 925 

PLEXIPPUS 

Nay, both bite soft, but no whit softly mine. 

MELEAGER 

Keep thine hands clean; they have time enough to stain. 

PLEXIPPUS 

For thine shall rest and wax not red to-day. 

MELEAGER 

Have all thy will of words; talk out thine heart. 

ALTH^A 

Refrain your lips, brethren, and my son, 930 

Lest words turn snakes and bite you uttering them. 

TOXEUS 

Except she give her blood before the gods, 
What profit shall a maid be among men? 

PLEXIPPUS 

Let her come crowned and stretch her throat for a knife, 
Bleat out her spirit and die, and so shall men 935 



Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 45 

Through her too prosper and through prosperous gods, 

But nowise through her living; shall she live 

A flower-bud of the flower-bed, or sweet fruit 

For kisses and the honey-making mouth, 

And play the shield for strong men and the spear? 940 

Then shall the heifer and her mate lock horns, 

And the bride overbear the groom, and men 

Gods; for no less division sunders these; 

Since all things made are seasonable in time, 

But if one alter unseasonable are all. 945 

But thou, O Zeus, hear me that I may slay 

This best before thee and no man halve with me 

Nor woman, lest these mock thee, though a god, 

Who hast made men strong, and thou being wise be held 

Foolish; for wise is that thing which endures. 950 

ATALANTA 

Men, and the chosen of all this people, and thou, 

King, I beseech you a little bear with me. 

For if my life be shameful that I live, 

Let the gods witness and their wrath; but these 

Cast no such word against me. Thou, O mine, 955 

O holy, O happy goddess, if I sin 

Changing the words of women and the works 

For spears and strange men's faces, hast not thou 

One shaft of all thy sudden seven that pierced 

Seven through the bosom or shining throat or side, 960 

All couched about one mother's loosening knees, 

All holy born, engrafled of Tantalus? 

But if toward any of you I am overbold 

That take thus much upon me, let him think 



46 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

How I, for all my forest holiness, 965 

Fame, and this armed and iron maidenhood, 

Pay thus much also; I shall have no man's love 

For ever, and no face of children born 

Or feeding lips upon me or fastening eyes 

For ever, nor being dead shall kings my sons 970 

Mourn me and bury, and tears on daughters' cheeks 

Burn; but a cold and sacred life, but strange, 

But far from dances and the back-blowing torch, 

Far off from flowers or any bed of man, 

Shall my life be for ever: me the snows 975 

That face the first o' the morning, and cold hills 

Full of the land-wind and sea-travelling storms 

And many a wandering wing of noisy nights 

That know the thunder and hear the thickening wolves — 

Me the utmost pine and footless frost of woods 980 

That talk with many winds and gods, the hours 

Re-risen, and white divisions of the dawn, 

Springs thousand-tongued with the intermitting reed 

And streams that murmur of the mother snow — 

Me these allure, and know me; but no man 985 

Knows, and my goddess only. Lo now, see 

If one of all you these things vex at all. 

Would God that any of you had all the praise 

And I no manner of memory when I die, 

So might I show before her perfect eyes 990 

Pure, whom I follow, a maiden to my death. 

But for the rest let all have all they will; 

For is it a grief to you that I have part, 

Being woman merely, in your male might and deeds 

Done by main strength? yet in my body is throned 995 

As great a heart, and in my spirit, O men, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 47 

I have not less of godlike. Evil it were 

That one a coward should mix with you, one hand 

Fearful, one eye abase itself; and these 

Well might ye hate and well revile, not me. 1000 

For not the difference of the several flesh 

Being vile or noble or beautiful or base 

Makes praiseworthy, but purer spirit and heart 

Higher than these meaner mouths and limbs, that feed, 

Rise, rest, and are and are not; and for me, 1005 

What should I say? but by the gods of the world 

And this my maiden body, by all oaths 

That bind the tongue of men and the evil will, 

I am not mighty-minded, nor desire 

Crowns, nor the spoil of slain things nor the fame; 1010 

Feed ye on these, eat and wax fat; cry out, 

Laugh, having eaten, and leap without a lyre, 

Sing, mix the wind with clamour, smite and shake 

Sonorous timbrels and tumultuous hair, 

And fill the dance up with tempestuous feet, 1015 

For I will none; but having prayed my prayers 

And made thank-offering for prosperities, 

I shall go hence and no man see me more. 

What thing is this for you to shout me down, 

What, for a man to grudge me this my life 1020 

As it were envious of all yours, and I 

A thief of reputations? nay, for now, 

If there be any highest in heaven, a god 

Above all thrones and thunders of the gods 

Throned, and the wheel of the world roll under him, 1025 

Judge he between me and all of you, and see 

If I transgress at all: but ye, refrain 

Transgressing hands and reinless mouths, and keep 



48 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Silence, lest by much foam of violent words 

And proper poison of your lips ye die. 1030 

CENEUS 

O flower of Tegea, maiden, fleetest foot 

And holiest head of women, have good cheer 

Of thy good words: but ye, depart with her 

In peace and reverence, each with blameless eye 

Following his fate; exalt your hands and hearts, 1035 

Strike, cease not, arrow on arrow and wound on wound, 

And go with gods and with the gods return. 

CHORUS 

Who hath given man speech? or who hath set therein 

A thorn for peril and a snare for sin? 

For in the word his life is and his breath, 1040 

And in the word his death, 
That madness and the infatuate heart may breed 

From the word's womb the deed 
And life bring one thing forth ere all pass by, 
Even one thing which is ours yet cannot die — 1045 

Death. Hast thou seen him ever anywhere, 
Time's twin-born brother, imperishable as he 
Is perishable and plaintive, clothed with care 

And mutable as sand, 
But death is strong and full of blood and fair 1050 

And perdurable and like a lord of land? 
Nay, time thou seest not, death thou wilt not see 
Till life's right hand be loosened from thine hand 

And thy life-days from thee. 



Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 49 

For the gods very subtly fashion 1055 

Madness with sadness upon earth: 
Not knowing in any wise compassion, 

Nor holding pity of any worth; 
And many things they have given and taken, 

And wrought and ruined many things; 1060 

The firm land have they loosed and shaken, 

And sealed the sea with all her springs; 
They have wearied time with heavy burdens 

And vexed the lips of life with breath: 
Set men to labour and given them guerdons, 1065 

Death, and great darkness after death: 
Put moans into the bridal measure 

And on the bridal wools a stain; 
And circled pain about with pleasure, 

And girdled pleasure about with pain; 1070 

And strewed one marriage-bed with tears and fire 
For extreme loathing and supreme desire. 

What shall be done with all these tears of ours? 

Shall they make watersprings in the fair heaven 
To bathe the brows of morning? or like flowers 1075 

Be shed and shine before the starriest hours, 

Or made the raiment of the weeping Seven? 
Or rather, O our masters, shall they be 
Food for the famine of the grievous sea,. 

A great well-head of lamentation 1080 

Satiating the sad gods? or fall and flow 
Among the years and seasons to and fro, 

And wash their feet with tribulation 
And fill them full with grieving ere they go? 

Alas, our lords, and yet alas again, 1085 



50 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Seeing all your iron heaven is gilt as gold 

But all we smite thereat in vain; 
Smite the gates barred with groanings manifold, 

But all the floors are paven with our pain. 
Yea, and with weariness of lips and eyes, 1090 

With breaking of the bosom, and with sighs, 

We labour, and are clad and fed with grief 
And filled with days we would not fain behold 
And nights we would not hear of; we wax old, 

All we wax old and wither like a leaf. 1095 

We are outcast, strayed between bright sun and moon; 

Our light and darkness are as leaves of flowers, 
Black flowers and white, that perish; and the noon 

As midnight, and the night as daylight hours. 

A little fruit a little while is ours, 1100 

And the worm finds it soon. 

But up in heaven the high gods one by one 

Lay hands upon the draught that quickeneth, 

Fulfilled with all tears shed and all things done, 

And stir with soft imperishable breath 1105 

The bubbling bitterness of life and death, 

And hold it to our lips and laugh; but they 

Preserve their lips from tasting night or day, 

Lest they too change and sleep, the fates that spun, 

The lips that made us and the hands that slay; 1110 

Lest all these change, and heaven bow down to none, 

Change and be subject to the secular sway 
And terrene revolution of the sun. 

Therefore they thrust it from them, putting time away. 

I would the wine of time, made sharp and sweet 1115 
With multitudinous days and nights and tears 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 51 

And many mixing savours of strange years, 
Were no more trodden of them under feet, 

Cast out and spilt about their holy places: 
That life were given them as a fruit to eat 1120 

And death to drink as water; that the light 
Might ebb, drawn backward from their eyes, and night 

Hide for one hour the imperishable faces. 
That they might rise up sad in heaven, and know 
Sorrow and sleep, one paler than young snow, 1125 

One cold as blight of dew and ruinous rain; 
Rise up and rest and suffer a little, and be 
Awhile as all things born with us and we, 

And grieve as men, and like slain men be slain. 

For now we know not of them; but one saith 1130 

The gods are gracious, praising God; and one, 
When hast thou seen? or hast thou felt his breath 

Touch, nor consume thine eyelids as the sun, 
Nor fill thee to the lips with fiery death? 

None hath beheld him, none 1135 

Seen above other gods and shapes of things, 
Swift without feet and flying without wings, 
Intolerable, not clad with death or life, 

Insatiable, not known of night or day, 
The lord of love and loathing and of strife 1140 

Who gives a star and takes a sun away; 
Who shapes the soul, and makes her a barren wife 

To the earthly body and grievous growth of clay; 
Who turns the large limbs to a little flame 

And binds the great sea with a little sand; 1145 

Who makes desire, and slays desire with shame; 

Who shakes the heaven as ashes in his hand; 



52 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Who, seeing the light and shadow for the same, 

Bids day waste night as fire devours a brand, 
Smites without sword, and scourges without rod; 1150 

The supreme evil, God. 
Yea, with thine hate, O God, thou hast covered us, 

One saith, and hidden our eyes away from sight, 
And made us transitory and hazardous, 

Light things and slight; 1155 

Yet men have praised thee, saying, He hath made man 

thus, 

And he doeth right. 
Thou hast kissed us, and hast smitten; thou hast laid 
Upon us with thy left hand life, and said, 
Live: and again thou hast said, Yield up your breath, 1160 
And with thy right hand laid upon us death. 
Thou hast sent us sleep, and stricken sleep with dreams, 

Saying, Joy is not, but love of joy shall be; 
Thou hast made sweet springs for all the pleasant streams, 

In the end thou has made them bitter with the sea. 1 165 
Thou hast fed one rose with dust of many men; 

Thou hast marred one face with fire of many tears; 
Thou hast taken love, and given us sorrow again; 

With pain thou hast filled us full to the eyes and ears. 
Therefore, because thou art strong, our father, and we 1 1 70 

Feeble; and thou art against us, and thine hand 
Constrains us in the shallows of the sea 

And breaks us at the limits of the land; 
Because thou hast bent thy lightnings as a bow, 

And loosed the hours like arrows ; and let fall 1175 
Sins and wild words and many a winged woe 

And wars among us, and one end of all; 
Because thou hast made the thunder, and thy feet 

Are as a rushing water when the skies 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 53 

Break, but thy face as an exceeding heat 1 1 80 

And flames of fire the eyelids of thine eyes; 
Because thou art over all who are over us; 

Because thy name is life and our name death; 
Because thou art cruel and men are piteous, 

And our hands labour and thine hand scattereth; 1 185 
Lo, with hearts rent and knees made tremulous, 

Lo, with ephemeral lips and casual breath, 
At least we witness of thee ere we die 
That these things are not otherwise, but thus; 

That each man in his heart sigheth, and saith, 1 190 
That all men even as I, 
All we are against thee, against thee, God most high. 

But ye, keep ye on earth 

Your lips from over-speech, 
Loud words and longing are so little worth; 1195 

And the end is hard to reach. 
For silence after grievous things is good, 

And reverence, and the fear that makes men whole, 
And shame, and righteous governance of blood, 

And lordship of the soul. 1200 

But from sharp words and wits men pluck no fruit, 
And gathering thorns they shake the tree at root; 
For words divide and rend; 
But silence is most noble till the end. 

ALTH^A 

I heard within the house a cry of news 1205 

And came forth eastward hither, where the dawn 
Cheers first these warder gods that face the sun 
And next our eyes unrisen; for unaware 



54 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Came clashes of swift hoofs and trampling feet 

And through the windy pillared corridor 1210 

Light sharper than the frequent flames of day 

That daily fill it from the fiery dawn; 

Gleams, and a thunder of people that cried out, 

And dust and hurrying horsemen; lo their chief, 

That rode with OEneus rein by rein, returned. 1215 

What cheer, O herald of my lord the king? 

HERALD 

Lady, good cheer and great; the boar is slain. 

CHORUS 

Praised be all gods that look toward Calydon. 

ALTH^A 

Good news and brief; but by whose happier hand? 

HERALD 

A maiden's and a prophet's and thy son's. 1220 

ALTH^A 

Well fare the spear that severed him and life. 

HERALD 

Thine own, and not an alien, hast thou blest. 

ALTH^A 

Twice be thou too for my sake blest and his. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 55 

HERALD 

At the king's word I rode afoam for thine. 

ALTH^A 

Thou sayest he tarrieth till they bring the spoil? 1225 

HERALD 

Hard by the quarry, where they breathe, O queen. 

ALTHiEA 

Speak thou their chance; but some bring flowers and crown 
These gods and all the lintel, and shed wine, 
Fetch sacrifice and slay; for heaven is good. 

HERALD 

Some furlongs northward where the brakes begin 1230 

West of that narrowing range of warrior hills 

Whose brooks have bled with battle when thy son 

Smote Acarnania, there all they made halt, 

And with keen eye took note of speak and hound, 

Royally ranked; Laertes island-born, 1235 

The young Gerenian Nestor, Panopeus, 

And Cepheus and Ancaeus, mightiest thewed, 

Arcadians; next, and evil-eyed of these, 

Arcadian Atalanta, with twain hounds 

Lengthening the leash, and under nose and brow 1240 

Glittering with lipless tooth and fire-swift eye; 

But from her white braced shoulder the plumed shafts 

Rang, and the bow shone from her side; next her 

Meleager, like a sun in spring that strikes 



56 Swinburne's Alalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Branch into leaf and bloom into the world, 1245 

A glory among men meaner; Iphicles, 

And following him that slew the biform bull 

Pirithous, and divine Eurytion, 

And, bride-bound to the gods, iEacides. 

Then Telamon his brother, and Argive-born 1250 

The seer and sayer of visions and of truth, 

Amphiaraus; and a four-fold strength, 

Thine, even thy mother's and thy sister's sons. 

And recent from the roar of foreign foam 

Jason, and Dryas twin-begot with war, 1255 

A blossom of bright battle, sword and man 

Shining; and Idas, and the keenest eye 

Of Lynceus, and Admetus twice-espoused, 

And Hippasus and Hyleus, great in heart. 

These having halted bade blow horns, and rode 1260 

Through woods and waste lands cleft by stormy streams, 

Past yew-trees and the heavy hair of pines, 

And where the dew is thickest under oaks. 

This way and that; but questing up and down 

They saw no trail nor scented; and one said, 1265 

Plexippus, Help, or help not, Artemis, 

And we will flay thy boarskin with male hands; 

But saying, he ceased and said not that he would 

Seeing where the green ooze of a sun-struck marsh 

Shook with a thousand reeds untunable, 1270 

And in their moist and multitudinous flower 

Slept no soft sleep, with violent visions fed, 

The blind bulk of the immeasurable beast. 

And seeing, he shuddered with sharp lust of praise 

Through all his limbs, and launched a double dart, 1275 

And missed; for much desire divided him, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 57 

Too hot of spirit and feebler than his will, 

That his hand failed, though fervent; and the shaft, 

Sundering the rushes, in a tamarisk stem 

Shook, and stuck fast; then all abode save one, 1280 

The Arcadian Atalanta; from her side 

Sprang her hounds, labouring at the leash, and slipped, 

And plashed ear-deep with plunging feet; but she 

Saying, Speed it' as I send it for thy sake, 

Goddess, drew bow and loosed; the sudden string 1285 

Rang, and sprang inward, and the waterish air 

Hissed, and the moist plumes of the songless reeds 

Moved as a wave which the wind moves no more. 

But the boar heaved half out of ooze and slime 

His tense flank trembling round the barbed wound, 1290 

Hateful; and fiery with invasive eyes 

And bristling with intolerable hair 

Plunged, and the hounds clung, and green flowers and 

white 
Reddened and broke all round them where they came. 
And charging with sheer tusk he drove, and smote 1295 
Hyleus; and sharp death caught his sudden soul, 
And violent sleep shed night upon his eyes. 
Then Peleus, with strong strain of hand and heart, 
Shot; but the sidelong arrow slid, and slew 
His comrade born and loving countryman, 1300 

Under the left arm smitten, as he no less 
Poised a like arrow; and bright blood brake afoam, 
And falling, and weighed back .by clamorous arms, 
Sharp rang the dead limbs of Eurytion. 
Then one shot happier, the Cadmean seer, 1305 

Amphiaraus; for his sacred shaft 
Pierced the red circlet of one ravening eye 
Beneath the brute brows of the sanguine boar, 



58 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Now bloodier from one slain; but he so galled 

Sprang straight, and rearing cried no lesser cry 1310 

Than thunder and the roar of wintering streams 

That mix their own foam with the yellower sea; 

And as a tower that falls by fire in fight 

With ruin of walls and all its archery, 

And breaks the iron flower of war beneath, 1315 

Crushing charred limbs and molten arms of men; 

So through crushed branches and the reddening brake 

Clamoured and crashed the fervour of his feet, 

And trampled, springing sideways from the tusk, 

Too tardy a moving mould of heavy strength, 1320 

Ancaeus; and as flakes of weak- winged snow 

Break, all the hard thews of his heaving limbs 

Broke, and rent flesh fell every way, and blood 

Flew, and fierce fragments of no more a man. 

Then all the heroes drew sharp breath, and gazed, 1325 

And smote not; but Meleager, but thy son, 

Right in the wild way of the coming curse 

Rock-rooted, fair with fierce and fastened lips, 

Clear eyes, and springing muscle and shortening limb — 

With chin aslant indrawn to a tightening throat, 1330 

Grave, and with gathered sinews, like a god, — 

Aimed on the left side his well-handled spear 

Grapsed where the ash was knottiest hewn, and smote, 

And with no missile wound, the monstrous boar 

Right in the hairiest hollow of his hide 1335 

Under the last rib, sheer through bulk and bone, 

Deep in; and deeply smitten, and to death, 

The heavy horror with his hanging shafts 

Leapt, and fell furiously, and from raging lips 

Foamed out the latest wrath of all his life. 1340 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 59 

And all they praised the gods with mightier heart, 

Zeus and all gods, but chiefliest Artemis, 

Seeing; but Meleager bade whet knives and flay, 

Strip and stretch out the splendour of the spoil; 

And hot and horrid from the work all these 1345 

Sat, and drew breath and drank and made great cheer 

And washed the hard sweat off their calmer brows. 

For much sweet grass grew higher than grew the reed, 

And good for slumber, and every holier herb, 

Narcissus, and the low-lying melilote, 1350 

And all of goodliest blade and bloom that springs 

Where, hid by heavier hyacinth, violet buds 

Blossom and burn; and fire of yellower flowers 

And light of crescent lilies, and such leaves 

As fear the Faun's and know the Dryad's foot; 1355 

Olive and ivy and poplar dedicate, 

And many a well-spring overwatched of these. 

There now they rest; but me the king bade bear 

Good tidings to rejoice this town and thee. 

Wherefore be glad, and all ye give much thanks, 1360 

For fallen is all the trouble of Calydon. 

ALTH^A 

Laud ye the gods; for this they have given is good, 

And what shall be they hide until their time. 

Much good and somewhat grievous hast thou said, 

And either well; but let all sad things be, 1365 

Till all have made before the prosperous gods 

Burnt-offering, and poured out the floral wine. 

Look fair, O gods, and favourable; for we 

Praise you with no false heart or flattering mouth, 

Being merciful, but with pure souls and prayer. 1370 



60 Swinburne 7 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 



HERALD 

Thou hast prayed well; for whoso fears not these, 
But once being prosperous waxes huge of heart, 
Him shall some new thing unaware destroy. 

CHORUS 

O that I now, I too were 

By deep wells and water-floods, 1375 

Streams of ancient hills, and where 

All the wan green places bear 

Blossoms cleaving to the sod, 

Fruitless fruit, and grasses fair, 

Or such darkest ivy-buds 1380 

As divide thy yellow hair, 

Bacchus, and their leaves that nod 

Round thy fawnskin brush the bare 

Snow-soft shoulders of a god; 

There the year is sweet, and there - 1385 

Earth is full of secret springs, 

And the fervent rose-cheeked hours, 

Those that marry dawn and noon, 

There are sunless, there look pale 

In dim leaves and hidden air, 1390 

Pale as grass or latter flowers 

Or the wild vine's wan wet rings 

Full of dew beneath the moon, 

And all day the nightingale 

Sleeps, and all night sings; 1395 

There in cold remote recesses 

That nor alien eyes assail, 

Feet, nor imminence of wings, 



Swinburne *s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 61 

Nor a wind nor any tune, 

Thou, O queen and holiest, 1400 

Flower the whitest of all things, 

With reluctant lengthening tresses 

And with sudden splendid breast 

Save of maidens unbeholden, 

There are wont to enter, there 1405 

Thy divine swift limbs and golden 

Maiden growth of unbound hair, 

Bathed in waters white, 

Shine, and many a maid's by thee 

In moist woodland or the hilly 1410 

Flowerless brakes where wells abound 

Out of all men's sight; 

Or in lower pools that see 

All their marges clothed all round 

With the innumerable lily, 1415 

Whence the golden-girdled bee 

Flits through flowering rush to fret 

White or duskier violet, 

Fair as those that in far years 

With their buds left luminous 1420 

And their little leaves made wet, 

From the warmer dew of tears, 

Mother's tears in extreme need, 

Hid the limbs of Iamus, 

Of thy brother's seed; 1425 

For his heart was piteous 

Toward him, even as thine heart now 

Pitiful toward us ; 

Thine, O goddess, turning hither 

A benignant blameless brow; 1430 



62 Swinburne 's Aialanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Seeing enough of evil done 

And lives withered as leaves wither 

In the blasting of the sun; 

Seeing enough of hunters dead, 

Ruin enough of all our year, 1435 

Herds and harvests slain and shed, 

Herdsmen stricken many an one, 

Fruits and flocks consumed together, 

And great length of deadly days. 

Yet with reverent lips and fear 1440 

Turn we toward thee, turn and praise 

For this lightening of clear weather 

And prosperities begun. 

For not seldom, when all air 

As bright water without breath 1445 

Shines, and when men fear not, fate 

Without thunder unaware 

Breaks, and brings down death. 

Joy with grief ye great gods give, 

Good with bad, and overbear 1450 

All the pride of us that live, 

All the high estate, 

As ye long since overbore, 

As in old time long before, 

Many a strong man and a great, 1455 

All that were. 

But do thou, sweet, otherwise, 

Having heed of all our prayer, 

Taking note of all our sighs; 

We beseech thee by thy light, 1460 

By thy bow, and thy sweet eyes, 

And the kingdom of the night, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 63 

Be thou favourable and fair; 

By thine arrows and thy might 

And Orion overthrown; 1465 

By the maiden thy delight, 

By the indissoluble zone 

And the sacred hair. 

MESSENGER 

Maidens, if ye will sing now, shift your song, 

Bow down, cry, wail for pity; is this a time 1470 

For singing? nay, for strewing of dust and ash, 

Rent raiment, and for bruising of the breast. 

CHORUS 

What new thing wolf-like lurks behind thy words? 
What snake's tongue in thy lips? what fire in the eyes? 

MESSENGER 

Bring me before the queen and I will speak. 1475 

CHORUS 

Lo, she comes forth as from thank-offering made. 

MESSENGER 

A barren offering for a bitter gift. 

ALTH^A 

What are these borne on branches, and the face 

Covered? no mean men living, but now slain 

Such honour have they, if any dwell with death. 1480 



64 Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtkeus 

MESSENGER 

Queen, thy twain brethren and thy mother's sons. 

ALTH^A 

Lay down your dead till I behold their blood 
If it be mine indeed, and I will weep. 

MESSENGER 

Weep if thou wilt, for these men shall no more. 

ALTH^A 

O brethren, O my father's sons, of me 1485 

Well loved and well reputed, I should weep 

Tears dearer than the dear blood drawn from you 

But that I know you not uncomforted, 

Sleeping no shameful sleep, however slain, 

For my son surely hath avenged you dead. " 1490 

MESSENGER 

Nay, should thine own seed slay himself, O queen? 

ALTHAEA 

Thy double word brings forth a double death. 

MESSENGER 

Know this then singly, by one hand they fell. 

ALTHAEA 

What mutterest thou with thine ambiguous mouth? 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 65 

MESSENGER 

Slain by thy son's hand; is that saying so hard? 1495 

ALTH.EA 

Our time is come upon us: it is here. 

CHORUS 

O miserable, and spoiled at thine own hand. 

ALTH^A 

Wert thou not called Meleager from this womb? 

CHORUS 

A grievous huntsman hath it bred to thee. 

ALTHAEA 

Wert thou born fire, and shalt thou not devour? 1500 

CHORUS 

The fire thou madest, will it consume even thee? 

ALTH.EA 

My dreams are fallen upon me; burn thou too. 

CHORUS 

Not without God are visions born and die. 

ALTH^A 

The gods are many about me; I am one. 



66 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

CHORUS 

She groaned as men wrestling with heavier gods. 1505 

ALTHAEA 

They rend me, they divide me, they destroy. 

CHORUS 

Or one labouring in travail of strange births. 

ALTHAEA 

They are strong, they are strong; I am broken, and these 
prevail. 

CHORUS 

The god is great against her; she will die. 

ALTHAEA 

Yea but not now; for my heart too is great. 1510 

I would I were not here in sight of the sun. 
But thou, speak all thou sawest, and I will die. 

MESSENGER 

O queen, for queenlike hast thou borne thyself, 

A little word may hold so great mischance. 

For in division of the sanguine spoil 1515 

These men thy brethren wrangling bade yield up 

The boar's head and the horror of the hide 

That this might stand a wonder in Calydon, 

Hallowed; and some drew toward them; but thy son 

With great hands grasping all that weight of hair 1520 

Cast down the dead heap clanging and collapsed 



Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 67 

At female feet, saying This thy spoil not mine, 

Maiden, thine own hand for thyself hath reaped, 

And all this praise God gives thee: she thereat 

Laughed, as when dawn touches the sacred night 1525 

The sky sees laugh and redden and divide 

Dim lips and eyelids virgin of the sun, 

Hers, and the warm slow breasts of morning heave, 

Fruitful, and flushed with flame from lamp-lit hours, 

And maiden undulation of clear hair 1530 

Colour the clouds; so laughed she from pure heart, 

Lit with a low blush to the braided hair, 

And rose-coloured and cold like very dawn, 

Golden and godlike, chastely with chaste lips, 

A faint grave laugh; and all they held their peace, 1535 

And she passed by them. Then one cried Lo now, 

Shall not the Arcadian shoot out lips at us, 

Saying all we were despoiled by this one girl? 

And all they rode against her violently 

And cast the fresh crown from her hair, and now 1540 

They had rent her spoil away, dishonouring her, 

Save that Meleager, as a tame lion chafed, 

Bore on them, broke them, and as fire cleaves wood 

So clove and drove them, smitten in twain; but she 

Smote not nor heaved up hand; and this man first, 1545 

Plexippus, crying out This for love's sake, sweet, 

Drove at Meleager, who with spear straightening 

Pierced his cheek through; then Toxeus made for him, 

Dumb, but his spear spake; vain and violent words, 

Fruitless; for him too stricken through both sides 1550 

The earth felt falling, and his horse's foam 

Blanched thy son's face, his slayer; and these being slain, 

None moved nor spake; but (Eneus bade bear hence 



68 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

These made of heaven infatuate in their deaths, 
Foolish; for these would baffle fate, and fell. 1555 

And they passed on, and all men honoured her, 
Being honourable, as one revered of heaven. 

ALTH^A 

What say you, women? is all this not well done? 

CHORUS 

No man doth well but God hath part in him. 

ALTHAEA 

But no part here; for these my brethren born 1560 

Ye have no part in, these ye know not of 

As I that was their sister, a sacrifice 

Slain in their slaying. I would I had died for these; 

For this man dead walked with me, child by child, 

And made a weak staff for my feebler feet 1565 

With his own tender wrist and hand, and held 

And led me softly and shewed me gold and steel 

And shining shapes of mirror and bright crown 

And all things fair; and threw light spears, and brought 

Young hounds to huddle at my feet and thrust 1570 

Tame heads against my little maiden breasts 

And please me with great eyes; and those days went 

And these are bitter and I a barren queen 

And sister miserable, a grievous thing 

And mother of many curses; and she too, 1575 

My sister Leda, sitting overseas 

With fair fruits round her, and her faultless lord, 

Shall curse me, saying A sorrow and not a son, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 69 

Sister, thou barest, even a burning fire, 

A brand consuming thine own soul and me. 1580 

But ye now, sons of Thestius, make good cheer, 

For ye shall have such wood to funeral fire 

As no king hath; and flame that once burnt down 

Oil shall not quicken or breath relume or wine 

Refresh again; much costlier than fine gold, 1585 

And more than many lives of wandering men. 

CHORUS 

queen, thou hast yet with thee love- worthy things, 
Thine husband, and the great strength of thy son. 

ALTH^A 

Who shall get brothers for me while I live? 

Who bear them? who bring forth in lieu of these? 1590 

Are not our fathers and our brethren one, 

And no man like them? are not mine here slain? 

Have we not hung together, he and I, 

Flowerwise feeding as the feeding bees, 

With mother-milk for honey? and this man too, 1595 

Dead, with my son's spear thrust between his sides, 

Hath he not seen us, later born than he, 

Laugh with lips filled, and laughed again for love? 

There were no sons then in the world, nor spears, 

Nor deadly births of women; but the gods 1600 

Allowed us, and our days were clear of these. 

1 would I had died unwedded, and brought forth 
No swords to vex the world; for these that spake 
Sweet words long since and loved me will not speak 
Nor love nor look upon me; and all my life 1605 



70 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

I shall not hear or see them living men. 

But I too living, how shall I now live? 

What life shall this be with my son, to know 

What hath been and desire what will not be, 

Look for dead eyes and listen for dead lips, 1610 

And kill mine own heart with remembering them, 

And with those eyes that see their slayer alive 

Weep, and wring hands that clasp him by the hand? 

How shall I bear my dreams of them, to hear 

False voices, feel the kisses of false mouths 1615 

And footless sound of perished feet, and then 

Wake and hear only it may be their own hounds 

Whine masterless in miserable sleep, 

And see their boar-spears and their beds and seats 

And all the gear and housings of their lives 1620 

And not the men? shall hounds and horses mourn, 

Pine with strange eyes, and prick up hungry ears, 

Famish and fail at heart for their dear lords, 

And I not heed at all? and those blind things 

Fall off from life for love's sake, and I live? 1625 

Surely some death is better than some life, 

Better one death for him and these and me. 

For if the gods had slain them it may be 

I had endured it; if they had fallen by war 

Or by the nets and knives of privy death 1630 

And by hired hands while sleeping, this thing too 

I had set my soul to suffer; or this hunt, 

Had this despatched them, under tusk or tooth 

Torn, sanguine, trodden, broken; for all deaths 

Or honourable or with facile feet avenged 1635 

And hands of swift gods following, all save this, 

Are bearable: but not for their sweet land 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 71 

Fighting, but not a sacrifice, lo these 

Dead; for I had not then shed all mine heart 

Out at mine eyes: then either with good speed, 1640 

Being just, I had slain their slayer atoningly, 

Or strewn with flowers their fire and on their tombs 

Hung crowns, and over them a song, and seen 

Their praise outflame their ashes: for all men, 

All maidens, had come thither, and from pure lips 1645 

Shed songs upon them, from heroic eyes 

Tears; and their death had been a deathless life; 

But now, by no man hired nor alien sword, 

By their own kindred are they fallen, in peace, 

After much peril, friendless among friends, 1650 

By hateful hands they loved; and how shall mine 

Touch these returning red and not from war, 

These fatal from the vintage of men's veins, 

Dead men my brethren? how shall these wash off 

No festal stains of undelightful wine, 1655 

How mix the blood, my blood on them, with me, 

Holding mine hand? or how shall I say, son, 

That am no sister? but by night and day 

Shall we not sit and hate each other, and think 

Things hate- worthy? not live with shamefast eyes, 1660 

Brow-beaten, treading soft with fearful feet, 

Each unupbraided, each without rebuke 

Convicted, and without a word reviled 

Each of another? and I shall let thee live 

And see thee strong and hear men for thy sake 1665 

Praise me, but these thou wouldest not let live 

No man shall praise for ever? these shall lie 

Dead, unbeloved, unholpen, all through thee? 

Sweet were they toward me living, and mine heart 



72 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Desired them, but was then well satisfied, 1670 

That now is as men hungered; and these dead 

I shall want always to the day I die. 

For all things else and all men may renew; 

Yea, son for son the gods may give and take, 

But never a brother or sister any more. 1675 

CHORUS 

Nay, for the son lies close about thine heart, 

Full of thy milk, warm from thy womb, and drains 

Life and the blood of life and all thy fruit, 

Eats thee and drinks thee as who breaks bread and eats, 

Treads wine and drinks, thyself, a sect of thee; 1680 

And if he feed not, shall not thy flesh faint? 

Or drink not, are not thy lips dead for thirst? 

This thing moves more than all things, even thy son, 

That thou cleave to him; and he shall honour thee, 

Thy womb that bare him and the breasts he knew, 1685 

Reverencing most for thy sake all his gods. 

ALTHAEA 

But these the gods too gave me, and these my son, 

Not reverencing his gods nor mine own heart 

Nor the old sweet years nor all venerable things, 

But cruel, and in his raving like a beast, 1690 

Hath taken away to slay them: yea, and she, 

She the strange woman, she the flower, the sword, 

Red from spilt blood, a mortal flower to men, 

Adorable, detestable — even she 

Saw with strange eyes and with strange lips rejoiced, 1695 

Seeing these mine own slain of mine own, and me 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 73 

Made miserable above all miseries made, 

A grief among all women in the world, 

A name to be washed out with all men's tears. 

CHORUS 

Strengthen thy spirit; is this not also a god, 1700 

Chance, and the wheel of all necessities? 
Hard things have fallen upon us from harsh gods, 
Whom lest worse hap rebuke we not for these. 

ALTH^A 

My spirit is strong against itself, and I 

For these things' sake cry out on mine own soul 1705 

That it endures outrage, and dolorous days, 

And life, and this inexpiable impotence. 

Weak am I, weak and shameful; my breath drawn 

Shames me, and monstrous things and violent gods. 

What shall atone? what heal me? what bring back 1710 

Strength to the foot, light to the face? what herb 

Assuage me? what restore me? what release? 

What strange thing eaten or drunken, O great gods, 

Make me as you or as the beasts that feed, 

Slay and divide and cherish their own hearts? 1715 

For these ye show us; and we less than these 

Have not wherewith to live as all these things 

Which all their lives fare after their own kind 

As who doth well rejoicing; but we ill, 

Weeping or laughing, we whom eyesight fails, 1720 

Knowledge and light of face and perfect hearts, 

And hands we lack, and wit; and all our days 

Sin, and have hunger, and die infatuated. 



74 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

For madness have ye given us and not health, 

And sins whereof we know not; and for these 1725 

Death, and sudden destruction unaware. 

What shall we say now? what thing comes of us? 

CHORUS 

Alas, for all this all men undergo. 

ALTH^A 

Wherefore I will not that these twain, O gods, 

Die as a dog dies, eaten of creeping things, 1730 

Abominable, a loathing; but though dead 

Shall they have honour and such funereal flame 

As strews men's ashes in their enemies' face 

And blinds their eyes who hate them: lest men say, 

"Lo how they lie, and living had great kin, 1735 

And none of these hath pity of them, and none 

Regards them lying, and none is wrung at heart, 

None moved in spirit for them, naked and slain, 

Abhorred, abased, and no tears comfort them:" 

And in the dark this grieve Eurythemis, 1740 

Hearing how these her sons come down to her 

Unburied, unavenged, as kinless men, 

And had a queen their sister. That were shame 

Worse than this grief. Yet how to atone at all 

I know not; seeing the love of my born son, 1745 

A new-made mother's new-born love, that grows 

From the soft child to the strong man, now soft 

Now strong as either, and still one sole same love, 

Strives with me, no light thing to strive withal; 

This love is deep, and natural to man's blood, 1750 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 75 

And ineffaceable with many tears. 
Yet shall not these rebuke me though I die, 
Nor she in that waste world with all her dead, 
My mother, among the pale flocks fallen as leaves, 
Folds of dead people, and alien from the sun; 1755 

Nor lack some bitter comfort, some poor praise, 
Being queen, to have borne her daughter like a queen, 
Righteous; and though mine own fire burn me too, 
She shall have honour and these her sons, though dead. 
But all the gods will, all they do, and we 1760 

Not all we would, yet somewhat; and one choice 
We have, to live and do just deeds and die. 

CHORUS 

Terrible words she communes with, and turns 

Swift fiery eyes in doubt against herself, 

And murmurs as who talks in dreams with death. 1765 

ALTHAEA 

For the unjust also dieth, and him all men 

Hate, and himself abhors the unrighteousness, 

And seeth his own dishonour intolerable. 

But I being just, doing right upon myself, 

Slay mine own soul, and no man born shames me. 1770 

For none constrains nor shall rebuke, being done, 

What none compelled me doing; thus these things fare. 

Ah, ah, that such things should so fare; ah me, 

That I am found to do them and endure, 

Chosen and constrained to choose, and bear myself 1775 

Mine own wound through mine own flesh to the heart 

Violently stricken, a spoiler and a spoil, 



76 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

A ruin ruinous, fallen on mine own son. 

Ah, ah, for me too as for these; alas, 

For that is done that shall be, and mine hand 1780 

Full of the deed, and full of blood mine eyes, 

That shall see never nor touch anything 

Save blood unstanched and fire unquenchable. 

CHORUS 

What wilt thou do? what ails thee? for the house 
Shakes ruinously; wilt thou bring fire for it? 1785 

ALTHAEA 

Fire in the roofs, and on the lintels fire. 

Lo ye, who stand and weave between the doors, 

There; and blood drips from hand and thread, and stains 

Threshold and raiment and me passing in 

Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death. 1790 

CHORUS 

Alas that time is stronger than strong men, 
Fate than all gods: and these are fallen on us. 

ALTHAEA 

A little since and I was glad; and now 
I never shall be glad or sad again. 

CHORUS 

Between two joys a grief grows unaware. 1795 

ALTHAEA 

A little while and I shall laugh; and then 
I shall weep never and laugh not any more. 



Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 77 



CHORUS 



What shall be said? for words are thorns to grief. 
Withhold thyself a little and fear the gods. 

ALTH.EA 

Fear died when these were slain; and I am as dead, 1800 
And fear is of the living; these fear none. 

CHORUS 

Have pity upon all people for their sake. 

ALTH^A 

It is done now; shall I put back my day? 

CHORUS 

An end is come, an end; this is of God. 

ALTHAEA 

T am fire, and burn myself; keep clear of fire. 1805 

CHORUS 

The house is broken, is broken; it shall not stand. 

ALTH^A 

Woe, woe for him that breaketh; and a rod 
Smote it of old, and now the axe is here. 

CHORUS 

Not as with sundering of the earth 

Nor as with cleaving of the sea 1810 



78 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Nor fierce foreshadowings of a birth 

Nor flying dreams of death to be 
Nor loosening of the large world's girth 
And quickening of the body of night, 

And sound of thunder in men's ears 1815 

And fire of lightning in men's sight, 

Fate, mother of desires and fears, 

Bore unto men the law of tears; 
But sudden, an unfathered flame, 

And broken out of night, she shone, 1820 

She, without body, without name, 

In days forgotten and foregone; 
And heaven rang round her as she came 
Like smitten cymbals and lay bare; 

Clouds and great stars, thunders and snows, 1825 
The blue sad fields and folds of air, 

The life that breathes, the life that grows, 

All wind, all fire, that burns or blows, 
Even all these knew her: for she is great; 

The daughter of doom, the mother of death, 1830 
The sister of sorrow; a lifelong weight 

That no man's finger lighteneth, 
Nor any god can lighten fate; 
A landmark seen across the way 

Where one race treads as the other trod; 1835 
An evil sceptre, an evil stay, 

Wrought for a staff, wrought for a rod, 

The bitter jealousy of God. 

For death is deep as the sea, 

And fate as the waves thereof. 1840 

Shall the waves take pity on thee 
Or the southwind offer thee love? 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 79 

Wilt thou take the night for thy day 
Or the darkness for light on thy way, 

Till thou say in thine heart Enough? 1845 
Behold, thou art over fair, thou art over wise; 
The sweetness of spring in thine hair, and the light in thine 

eyes. 
The light of the spring in thine eyes, and the sound in thine 

ears; 
Yet thine heart shall wax heavy with sighs and thine eye- 
lids with tears. 1849 
Wilt thou cover thine hair with gold, and with silver thy 

feet? 
Hast thou taken the purple to fold thee, and made thy 

mouth sweet? 
Behold, when they face is made bare, he that loved thee 

shall hate; 
Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of thy fate. 
For thy life shall fall as a leaf and be shed as the rain; 
And the veil of thine head shall be grief; and the crown 

shall be pain. 1855 

ALTH^A 

Ho, ye that wail, and ye that sing, make way 

Till I be come among you. Hide your tears, 

Ye little weepers, and your laughing lips, 

Ye laughers for a little; lo mine eyes 

That outweep heaven at rainiest, and my mouth 1860 

That laughs as gods laugh at us. Fate's are we, 

Yet fate is ours a breathing-space; yea, mine, 

Fate is made mine for ever; he is my son, 

My bedfellow, my brother. You strong gods, 

Give place unto me; I am as any of you, 1865 

To give life and to take life. Thou, old earth, 

That hast made man and unmade; thou whose mouth 



80 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Looks red from the eaten fruits of thine own womb; 

Behold me with what lips upon what food 

I feed and fill my body; even with flesh 1870 

Made of my body. Lo, the fire I lit 

I burn with fire to quench it; yea, with flame 

I burn up even the dust and ash thereof. 

CHORUS 

Woman, what fire is this thou burnest with? 

ALTH^A 

Yea to the bone, yea to the blood and all. 1875 

CHORUS 

For this thy face and hair are as one fire. 

ALTH^A 

A tongue that licks and beats upon the dust. 

CHORUS 

And in thine eyes are hollow light and heat. 

ALTH^A 

Of flame not fed with hand or frankincense. 

CHORUS 

I fear thee for the trembling of thine eyes. 1880 



Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 81 

ALTH^A 

Neither with love thy tremble nor for fear. 

CHORUS 

And thy mouth shuddering like a shot bird. 

ALTHAEA 

Not as the bride's mouth when man kisses it. 

CHORUS 

Nay, but what thing is this thing thou hast done? 

ALTHjEA 

Look, I am silent, speak your eyes for me. 1885 

CHORUS 

I see a faint fire lightening from the hall. 

ALTH^A 

Gaze, stretch your eyes, strain till the lids drop off. 

CHORUS 

Flushed pillars down the flickering vestibule. 

ALTH^A 

Stretch with your necks like birds: cry, chirp as they. 



82 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

CHORUS 

And a long brand that blackens : and white dust. 1890 

ALTH^A 

O children, what is this ye see? your eyes 

Are blinder than night's face at fall of moon. 

That is my son, my flesh, my fruit of life, 

My travail, and the year's weight of my womb, 

Meleager, a fire enkindled of mine hands 1895 

And of mine hands extinguished; this is he. 

CHORUS 

gods, what word has flown out at thy mouth? 

ALTHAEA 

1 did this and I say this and I die. 

CHORUS 

Death stands upon the doorway of thy lips, 

And in thy mouth has death set up in his house. 1900 

ALTHiEA 

O death, a little, a little while, sweet death, 
Until I see the brand burnt down and die. 

CHORUS 

She reels as any reed under the wind, 

And cleaves unto the ground with staggering feet. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 83 

ALTH^A 

Girls, one thing will I say and hold my peace. 1905 

I that did this will weep not nor cry out, 

Cry ye and weep: I will not call on gods, 

Call ye on them; I will not pity man, 

Shew ye your pity. I know not if I live; 

Save that I feel the fire upon my face 1910 

And on my cheek the burning of a brand. 

Yea the smoke bites me, yea I drink the steam 

With nostril and with eyelid and with lip 

Insatiate and intolerant; and mine hands 

Burn, and fire feeds upon mine eyes; I reel 1915 

As one made drunk with living, whence he draws 

Drunken delight; yet I, though mad for joy, 

Loathe my long living and am waxen red 

As with the shadow of shed blood; behold, 

I am kindled with the flames that fade in him, 1920 

I am swollen with subsiding of his veins, 

I am flooded with his ebbing; my lit eyes 

Flame with the falling fire that leaves his lids 

Bloodless; my cheek is luminous with blood 

Because his face is ashen. Yet, O child, 1925 

Son, first-born, fairest — O sweet mouth, sweet eyes, 

That drew my life out through my suckling breast, 

That shone and clove mine heart through — soft knees 

Clinging, O tender treadings of soft feet, 

Cheeks warm with little kissings — O child, child, 1930 

What have we made each other? Lo, I felt 

Thy weight cleave to me, a burden of beauty, O son, 

Thy cradled brows and loveliest loving lips, 

The floral hair, the little lightening eyes, 



84 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechlheus 

And all thy goodly glory; with mine hands 1935 

Delicately I fed thee, with my tongue 

Tenderly spake, saying, Verily in God's time, 

For all the little likeness of thy limbs, 

Son, I shall make thee a kingly man to fight, 

A lordly leader; and hear before I die, 1940 

"She bore the goodliest sword of all the world." 

Oh! oh! For all my life turns round on me; 

I am severed from myself, my name is gone, 

My name that was a healing, it is changed, 

My name is a consuming. From this time, 1945 

Though mine eyes reach to the end of all these things, 

My lips shall not unfasten till I die. 

SEMICHORUS 

She has filled with sighing the city 

And the ways thereof with tears; 
She arose, she girdled her sides, 1950 

She set her face as a bride's; 
She wept, and she had no pity; 

Trembled and felt no fears. 



SEMICHORUS 

Her eyes were clear as the sun, 

Her brows were fresh as the day; 1955 

She girdled herself with gold, 
Her robes were manifold; 
But the days of her worship are done, 

Her praise is taken away. 



Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 85 

SEMICHORUS 

For she set her hand to the fire, 1960 

With her mouth she kindled the same; 

As the mouth of a flute-player, 

So was the mouth of her; 

With the might of her strong desire 

She blew the breath of the flame. 1965 

SEMICHORUS 

She set her hand to the wood, 

She took the fire in her hand; 
As one who is nigh to death, 
She panted with strange breath; 
She opened her lips unto blood, 1970 

She breathed and kindled the brand. 

SEMICHORUS 

As a wood-dove newly shot, 

She sobbed and lifted her breast; 
She sighed and covered her eyes, 
Filling her lips with sighs; 1975 

She sighed, she withdrew herself not, 

She refrained not, taking not rest; 

SEMICHORUS 

But as the wind which is drouth, 

And as the air which is death, 
As storm that severeth ships, 1980 

Her breath severing her lips, 
The breath came forth of her mouth 

And the fire came forth of her breath. 



86 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

SECOND MESSENGER 

Queen, and you maidens, there is come on us 

A thing more deadly than the face of death; 1985 

Meleager the good lord is as one slain. 

SEMICHORUS 

Without sword, without sword is he stricken; 
Slain, and slain without hand. 

SECOND MESSENGER 

For as keen ice divided of the sun 

His limbs divide, and as thawed snow the flesh 1990 

Thaws from off all his body to the hair. 

SEMICHORUS 

He wastes as the embers quicken; 
With the brand he fades as a brand. 

SECOND MESSENGER 

Even while they sang and all drew hither and he 

Lifted both hands to crown the Arcadian's hair 1995 

Ans fixed the looser leaves, both hands fell down. 

SEMICHORUS 

With rending of cheek and of hair 
Lament ye, mourn for him, weep. 

SECOND MESSENGER 

Straightway the crown slid off and smote on earth, 
First fallen; and he, grasping his own hair, groaned 2000 
And cast his raiment round his face and fell. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 87 

SEMICHORUS 

Alas for visions that were, 

And soothsayings spoken in sleep. 

SECOND MESSENGER 

But the king twitched his reins in and leapt down 
And caught him, crying out twice "O child" and 

thrice, 2005 

So that men's eyelids thickened with their tears. 

SEMICHORUS 

Lament with a long lamentation, 
Cry, for an end is at hand. 

SECOND MESSENGER 

O son, he said, son, lift thine eyes, draw breath, 

Pity me; but Meleager with sharp lips 2010 

Gasped; and his face waxed like as sunburnt grass. 

SEMICHORUS 

Cry aloud, thou kingdom, O nation, 
O stricken, a ruinous land. 

SECOND MESSENGER 

Whereat king (Eneus, straightening feeble knees, 

With feeble hands heaved up a lessening weight, 2015 

And laid him sadly in strange hands, and wept. 

SEMICHORUS 

Thou art smitten, her lord, her desire, 
Thy dear blood wasted as rain. 



88 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 



SECOND MESSENGER 



And they with tears and rendings of the beard 

Bear hither a breathing body, wept upon 2020 

And lightening at each footfall, sick to death. 



SEMICHORUS 

Thou madest thy sword as a fire, 
With fire for a sword thou art slain. 



SECOND MESSENGER 

And lo, the feast turned funeral, and the crowns 

Fallen; and the huntress and the hunter trapped; 2025 

And weeping and changed faces and veiled hair. 

MELEAGER 

Let your hands meet 

Round the weight of my head; 
Lift ye my feet 

As the feet of the dead; 2030 

For the flesh of my body is molten, the limbs of it molten 
as lead. 

CHORUS 

O thy luminous face, 

Thine imperious eyes! 
O the grief, O the grace 

As of day when it dies! 2035 

Who is this bending over thee, lord, with tears and sup- 
pression of sighs? 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 89 

MELEAGER 

Is a bride so fair? 

Is a maid so meek? 
With unchapleted hair, 

With unfilleted cheek, 2040 

Atalanta, the pure among women, whose name is as bless- 
ing to speak. 

ATALANTA 

I would that with feet 

Unsandalled, unshod, 
Overbold, overfleet, 

I had swum not nor trod 2045 

From Arcadia to Calydon northward, a blast of the envy 
of God. 

MELEAGER 

Unto each man his fate; 
Unto each as he saith 
In whose fingers the weight 

Of the world is as breath; 2050 

Yet I would that in clamour of battle mine hands had laid 
hold upon death. 

CHORUS 

Not with cleaving of shields 

And their clash in thine ear, 
When the lord of fought fields 

Breaketh spearshaft from spear, 2055 

Thou art broken, our lord, thou art broken, with travail 
and labour and fear. 



90 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

MELEAGER 

Would God he had found me 

Beneath fresh boughs! 
Would God he had bound me 

Unawares in mine house, 2060 

With light in mine eyes, and songs in my lips, and a crown 
on my brows! 

CHORUS 

Whence art thou sent from us? 

Whither thy goal? 
How art thou rent from us, 

Thou that wert whole, 2065 

As with severing of eyelids and eyes, as with sundering of 
body and soul! 

MELEAGER 

My heart is within me 
As an ash in the fire; 
Whosoever hath seen me, 

Without lute, without lyre, 2070 

Shall sing of me grievous things, even things that were ill 
to desire. 

CHORUS 

Who shall raise thee 

From the house of the dead? 
Or what man praise thee 

That thy praise may be said? 2075 

Alas thy beauty! alas thy body! alas thine head! 

MELEAGER 

But thou, O mother, 
The dreamer of dreams, 



Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 91 

Wilt thou bring forth another 

To feel the sun's beams 2080 

When I move among shadows a shadow, and wail by 
impassable streams? 

GENEUS 

What thing wilt thou leave me 

Now this thing is done? 
A man wilt thou give me, 
A son for my son, 2085 

For the light of mine eyes, the desire of my life, the desir- 
able one? 

CHORUS 

Thou were glad above others, 

Yea, fair beyond word; 
Thou were glad among mothers; 

For each man that heard 2090 

Of thee, praise there was added unto thee, as wings to the 
feet of a bird. 

CENEUS 

Who shall give back 

Thy face of old years 
With travail made black, 

Grown grey among fears, 2095 

Mother of sorrow, mother of cursing, mother of tears? 

MELEAGER 

Though thou art as fire 

Fed with fuel in vain, 
My delight, my desire, 

Is more chaste than the rain, 2100 



92 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

More pure than the dewfall, more holy than stars are that 
live without stain. 

ATALANTA 

I would that as water 

My life's blood had thawn, 
Or as winter's wan daughter 

Leaves lowland and lawn 2105 

Spring-stricken, or ever mine eyes had beheld thee made 
dark in thy dawn. 

CHORUS 

When thou dravest the men 

Of the chosen of Thrace, 
None turned him again 

Nor endured he thy face 2110 

Clothed round with the blush of the battle, with light 
from a terrible place. 

CENEUS 

Thou shouldst die as he dies 

For whom none sheddeth tears; 
Filling thine eyes 

And fulfilling thine ears 2115 

With the brilliance of battle, the bloom and the beauty, the 
splendour of spears. 

CHORUS 

In the ears of the world 

It is sung, it is told, 
And the light thereof hurled 

And the noise thereof rolled 2120 

From the Acroceraunian snow to the ford of the fleece of 
gold. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 93 

MELEAGER 

Would God ye could carry me 

Forth of all these; 
Heap sand and bury me 

By the Chersonese 2125 

Where the thundering Bosphorus answers the thunder of 
Pontic seas. 

CENEUS 

Dost thou mock at our praise 

And the singing begun 
And the men of strange days 

Praising my son 2130 

In the folds of the hills of home, high places of Calydon? 

MELEAGER 

For the dead man no home is; 

Ah, better to be 
What the flower of the foam is 

In fields of the sea, 2135 

That the sea-waves might be as my raiment, the gulf- 
stream a garment for me. 

CHORUS 

Who shall seek thee and bring 

And restore thee thy day, 
When the dove dipt her wing 

And the oars won their way 2140 

Where the narrowing Symplegades whitened the straits 
of Propontis with spray? 



94 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

MELEAGER 

Will ye crown me my tomb 

Or exalt me my name, 
Now my spirits consume, 

Now my flesh is a flame? 2145 

Let the sea slake it once, and men speak of me sleeping to 
praise me or shame. 

CHORUS 

Turn back now, turn thee, 

As who turns him to wake; 
Though the life in thee burn thee, 

Couldst thou bathe it and slake 2150 

Where the sea-ridge of Helle hangs heavier, and east upon 
west waters break? 

MELEAGER 

Would the winds blow me back 
Or the waves hurl me home? 
Ah, to touch in the track 

When the pine learnt to roam 2155 

Cold girdles and crowns of the sea-gods, cool blossoms of 
water and foam! 

CHORUS 

The gods may release 

That they made fast; 
Thy soul shall have ease 

In thy limbs at the last; 2160 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 95 

But what shall they give thee for life, sweet life that is 
overpast? 

MELEAGER 

Not the life of men's veins, 

Not of flesh that conceives; 
But the grace that remains, 

The fair beauty that cleaves 2165 

To the life of the rains in the grasses, the life of the dews 
on the leaves. 

CHORUS 

Thou wert helmsman and chief; 

Wilt thou turn in an hour, 
Thy limbs to the leaf, 

Thy face to the flower, 2170 

Thy blood to the water, thy soul to the gods who divide 
and devour? 

MELEAGER 

The years are hungry, 

Thy wail all their days; 
The gods wax angry 

And weary of praise; 2175 

And who shall bridle their lips? and who shall straiten 
their ways? 

CHORUS 

The gods guard over us 

With sword and with rod; 
Weaving shadow to cover us, 

Heaping the sod, 2180 

That law may fulfil herself wholly, to darken man's face 
before God. 



96 Swinburne 7 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

MELEAGER 

O holy head of (Eneus, lo thy son 

Guiltless, yet red from alien guilt, yet foul 

With kinship of contaminated lives, 

Lo, for their blood I die; and mine own blood 2185 

For bloodshedding of mine is mixed therewith, 

That death may not discern me from my kin. 

Yet with clean heart I die and faultless hand, 

Not shamefully; thou therefore of thy love 

Salute me, and bid fare among the dead 2190 

Well, as the dead fare; for the best man dead 

Fares sadly; nathless I now faring well 

Pass without fear where nothing is to fear 

Having thy love about me and thy goodwill, 

O father, among dark places and men dead. 2195 

CENEUS 

Child, I salute thee with sad heart and tears, 

And bid thee comfort, being a perfect man 

In fight, and honourable in the house of peace. 

The gods give thee fair wage and dues of death, 

And me brief days and ways to come at thee. 2200 

MELEAGER 

Pray thou thy days be long before thy death, 

And full of ease and kingdom; seeing in death 

There is no comfort and none aftergrowth, 

Nor shall one thence look up and see day's dawn 

Nor light upon the land whither I go. 2205 

Live thou and take thy fill of days and die 

When thy day comes; and make not much of death 



Swinburne' } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 97 

Lest ere thy day thou reap an evil thing. 

Thou too, the bitter mother and mother-plague 

Of this my weary body — thou too, queen, 2210 

The source and end, the sower and the scythe, 

The rain that ripens and the drought that slays, 

The sand that swallows and the spring that feeds, 

To make me and unmake me — thou, I say, 

Althaea, since my father's ploughshare, drawn 2215 

Through fatal seedland of a female field, 

Furrowed thy body, whence a wheaten ear 

Strong from the sun and fragrant from the rains 

I sprang and cleft the closure of thy womb, 

Mother, I dying with unforgetful tongue 2220 

Hail thee as holy and worship thee as just 

Who art unjust and unholy; and with my knees 

Would worship, but thy fire and subtlety, 

Dissundering them, devour me; for these limbs 

Are as light dust and crumblings from mine urn 2225 

Before the fire has touched them; and my face 

As a dead leaf or dead foot's mark on snow, 

And all this body a broken barren tree 

That was so strong, and all this flower of life 

Disbranched and desecrated miserably, 2230 

And minished all that god-like muscle and might 

And lesser than a man's: for all my veins 

Fail me, and all mine ashen life burns down. 

I would thou hadst let me live; but gods averse, 

But fortune, and the fiery feet of change, 2235 

And time, these would not, these tread out my life, 

These and not thou; me too thou hast loved, and I 

Thee; but this death was mixed with all my life, 

Mine end with my beginning: and this law, 



98 Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthens 

This only, slays me, and not my mother at all. 2240 

And let no brother or sister grieve too sore, 

Nor melt their hearts out on me with their tears, 

Since extreme love and sorrowing overmuch 

Vex the great gods, and overloving men 

Slay and are slain for love's sake; and this house 2245 

Shall bear much better children; why should these 

Weep? but in patience let them live their lives 

And mine pass by forgotten: thou alone, 

Mother, thou sole and only, thou not these, 

Keep me in mind a little when I die 2250 

Because I was thy first-born; let thy soul 

Pity me, pity even me gone hence and dead, 

Though thou wert wroth, and though thou bear again 

Much happier sons, and all men later born 

Exceedingly excel me; yet do thou 2255 

Forget not, nor think shame; I was thy son. 

Time was I did not shame thee; and time was 

I thought to live and make thee honourable 

With deeds as great as these men's; but they live, 

These, and I die; and what thing should have been 2260 

Surely I know not; yet I charge thee, seeing 

I am dead already, love me not the less, 

Me, O my mother; I charge thee by these gods, 

My father's, and that holier breast of thine, 

By these that see me dying, and that which nursed, 2265 

Love me not less, thy first-born: though grief come, 

Grief only, of me, and of all these great joy, 

And shall come always to thee; for thou knowest, 

O mother, O breasts that bare me, for ye know, 

O sweet head of my mother, sacred eyes, 2270 

Ye know my soul albeit I sinned, ye know 



Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 99 

Albeit I kneel not neither touch thy knees, 

But with my lips I kneel, and with my heart 

I fall about thy feet and worship thee. 

And ye farewell now, all my friends; and ye, 2275 

Kinsmen, much younger and glorious more than I, 

Sons of my mother's sister; and all farewell 

That were in Colchis with me, and bare down 

The waves and wars that met us: and though times 

Change, and though now I be not anything, 2280 

Forget not me among you, what I did 

In my good time; for even by all those days, 

Those days and this, and your own living souls, 

And by the light and luck of you that live, 

And by this miserable spoil, and me 2285 

Dying, I beseech you, let my name not die. 

But thou, dear, touch me with thy rose-like hands, 

And fasten up mine eyelids with thy mouth, 

A bitter kiss; and grasp me with thine arms, 

Printing with heavy lips my light waste flesh, 2290 

Made light and thin by heavy-handed fate, 

And with thine holy maiden eyes drop dew, 

Drop tears for dew upon me who am dead, 

Me who have loved thee; seeing without sin done 

I am gone down to the empty weary house 2295 

Where no flesh is nor beauty nor swift eyes 

Nor sound of mouth nor might of hands and feet. 

But thou, dear, hide my body with thy veil, 

And with thy raiment cover foot and head, 

And stretch thyself upon me and touch hands 2300 

With hands and lips with lips; be pitiful 

As thou art maiden perfect; let no man 

Defile me to despise me, saying, This man 



100 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Died woman-wise, a woman's offering, slain 

Through female fingers in his woof of life, 2305 

Dishonourable; for thou hast honoured me. 

And now for God's sake kiss me once and twice 

And let me go; for the night gathers me, 

And in the night shall no man gather fruit. 

ATALANTA 

Hail thou: but I with heavy face and feet 2310 

Turn homeward and am gone out of thine eyes. 

CHORUS 

Who shall contend with his lords 
Or cross them or do them wrong? 

Who shall bind them as with cords? 

Who shall tame them as with song? 2315 

Who shall smite them as with swords? 

For the hands of their kingdom are strong. 



ERECHTHEUS 
A TRAGEDY 

J> ral \iirapal /cat loarkipavoL nal aolSifioi, 

'EXXctSos 'ipeiapa, /cXe«>ai' kdavai, baip.6viov ■KToKlfBpov. 

pind. Ft. 47. 

AT. rls 8k TTOipavu>p eireari Kairidecnrb^ei arpaTod; 

XO. 0%TLVOS SoOXoi K€l(\r)l>T til (fCOTOS 01)8' VTT7JKOOI. 

JEscn. Pers. 241-2, 



101 



TO 

MY MOTHER 



103 



PERSONS 

ERECHTHEUS. 

CHORUS OF ATHENIAN ELDERS. 

PRAXITHEA. 

CHTHONIA. 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS. 

MESSENGER. 

ATHENIAN HERALD. 

ATHENA. 



104 



ERECHTHEUS 

ERECHTHEUS 

Mother of life and death and all men's days, 

Earth, whom I chief of all men born would bless, 

And call thee with more loving lips than theirs 

Mother, for of this very body of thine 

And living blood I have my breath and live, 5 

Behold me, even thy son, me crowned of men, 

Me made thy child by that strong cunning God 

Who fashions fire and iron, who begat 

Me for a sword and beacon-fire on thee, 

Me fosterling of Pallas, in her shade 10 

Reared, that I first might pay the nursing debt, 

Hallowing her fame with flower of third-year feasts, 

And first bow down the bridled strength of steeds 

To lose the wild wont of their birth, and bear 

Clasp of man's knees and steerage of his hand, 15 

Or fourfold service of his fire-swift wheels 

That whirl the four-yoked chariot; me the king 

Who stand before thee naked now, and cry, 

O holy and general mother of all men born, 

But mother most and motherliest of mine, 20 

Earth, for I ask thee rather of all the Gods, 

What have we done? what word mistimed or work 

Hath winged the wild feet of this timeless curse 

To fall as fire upon us? Lo, I stand 

Here on this brow's crown of the city's head 25 

105 



106 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

That crowns its lovely body, till death's hour 

Waste it; but now the dew of dawn and birth 

Is fresh upon it from thy womb, and we 

Behold it born how beauteous; one day more 

I see the world's wheel of the circling sun 30 

Roll up rejoicing to regard on earth 

This one thing goodliest, fair as heaven or he, 

Worth a God's gaze or strife of Gods; but now 

Would this day's ebb of their spent wave of strife 

Sweep it to sea, wash it on wreck, and leave 35 

A costless thing contemned; and in our stead, 

Where these walls were and sounding streets of men, 

Make wide a waste for tongueless water-herds 

And spoil of ravening fishes; that no more 

Should men say, Here was Athens. This shalt thou 40 

Sustain not, nor thy son endure to see, 

Nor thou to live and look on; for the womb 

Bare me not base that bare me miserable, 

To hear this loud brood of the Thracian foam 

Break its broad strength of billowy-beating war 45 

Here, and upon it as a blast of death 

Blowing, the keen wrath of a fire-souled king, 

A strange growth grafted on our natural soil, 

A root of Thrace in Eleusinian earth 

Set for no comfort to the kindly land, 50 

Son of the sea's lord and our first-born foe, 

Eumolpus; nothing sweet in ears of thine 

The music of his making, nor a song 

Toward hopes of our auspicious; for the note 

Rings as for death oracular to thy sons 55 

That goes before him on the sea-wind blown 

Full of this charge laid on me, to put out 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 107 

The brief light kindled of mine own child's life, 

Or with this helmsman hand that steers the state 

Run right on the under shoal and ridge of death 60 

The populous ship with all its fraughtage gone 

And sails that were to take the wind of time 

Rent, and the tackling that should hold out fast 

In confluent surge of loud calamities 

Broken, with spars of rudders and lost oars 65 

That were to row toward harbour and find rest 

In some most glorious haven of all the world 

And else may never near it: such a song 

The Gods have set his lips on fire withal 

Who threatens now in all their names to bring 70 

Ruin; but none of these, thou knowest, have I 

Chid with my tongue or cursed at heart for grief, 

Knowing how the soul runs reinless on sheer death, 

Whose grief or joy takes part against the Gods. 

And what they will is more than our desire, 75 

And their desire is more than what we will. 

For no man's will and no desire of man's 

Shall stand as doth a God's will. Yet, O fair 

Mother, that seest me how I cast no word 

Against them, plead no reason, crave no cause, 80 

Boast me not blameless, nor beweep me wronged, 

By this fair wreath of towers we have decked thee with, 

This chaplet that we give thee woven of walls, 

This girdle of gate and temple and citadel 

Drawn round beneath thy bosom, and fast linked 85 

As to thine heart's root — this dear crown of thine, 

This present light, this city — be not thou 

Slow to take heed nor slack to strengthen her, 

Fare we so short-lived howsoe'er, and pay 



108 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

What price we may to ransom thee thy town, 

Not me my life; but thou that diest not, thou, 90 

Though all our house die for this people's sake, 

Keep thou for ours thy crown our city, guard 

And give it life the lovelier that we died. 

CHORUS 

Sun, that hast lightened and loosed by thy might 95 

Ocean and Earth from the lordships of night, 
Quickening with vision his eye that was veiled, 
Freshening the force in her heart that had failed, 
That sister fettered and blinded brother 
Should have sight by thy grace and delight of each 

other, 100 

Behold now and see 

What profit is given them of thee; 
What wrath has enkindled with madness of mind 
Her limbs that were bounden, his face that was blind, 
To be locked as in wrestle together, and lighten 105 

With fire that shall darken thy fire in the sky, 
Body to body and eye against eye 

In a war against kind, 
Till the bloom of her fields and her high hills whiten 

With the foam of his waves more high. 110 

For the sea-marks set to divide of old 
The kingdoms to Ocean and Earth assigned, 
The hoar sea-fields from the cornfield's gold, 
His wine-bright waves from her vineyards' fold, 

Frail forces we find 115 

To bridle the spirit of Gods or bind 

Till the heat of their hearts wax cold. 
But the peace that was stablished between them to stand 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 109 

Is rent now in twain by the strength of his hand 
Who stirs up the storm of his sons overbold 120 

To pluck from fight what he lost of right, 
By council and judgment of Gods that spake 
And gave great Pallas the strife's fair stake, 
The lordship and love of the lovely land, 
The grace of the town that hath on it for crown 125 

But a headband to wear 

Of violets one-hued with her hair: 
For the vales and the green high places of earth 

Hold nothing so fair, 
And the depths of the sea bear no such birth 130 

Of the manifold births they bear. 
Too well, too well was the great stake worth 
A strife divine for the Gods to judge, 
A crowned God's triumph, a foiled God's grudge, 
Though the loser be strong and the victress wise 135 

Who played long since for so large a prize, 
The fruitful immortal anointed adored 
Dear city of men without master or lord, 
Fair fortress and fostress of sons born free, 
Who stand in her sight and in thine, O sun, 140 

Slaves of no man, subjects of none; 
A wonder enthroned on the hills and sea, 
A maiden crowned with a fourfold glory 
That none from the pride of her head may rend, 
Violet and olive-leaf purple and hoary, 145 

Song-wreath and story the fairest of fame, 
Flowers that the winter can blast not or bend; 
A light upon earth as the sun's own flame 
A name as his name, 

Athens, a praise without end. 150 



110 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

A noise is arisen against us of waters, [Str. 1. 

A sound as of battle come up from the sea. 
Strange hunters are hard on us, hearts without pity; 
They have staked their nets round the fair young city, 
That the sons of her strength and her virgin daugh- 
ters 155 
Should find not whither alive to flee. 
And we know not yet of the word unwritten, [Ant. 1. 

The doom of the Pythian we have not heard; 
From the navel of earth and the veiled mid altar 
We wait for a token with hopes that falter, 160 

With fears that hang on our hearts thought-smitten 

Lest her tongue be kindled with no good word. 
O thou not born of the womb, nor bred [Str. 2. 

In the bride-night's warmth of a changed God's bed, 
But thy life as a lightning was flashed from the light of thy 
father's head. 165 

O chief God's child by a motherless birth, 
If aught in thy sight we indeed be worth, 
Keep death from us thou, that art none of the Gods of the 
dead under earth. 
Thou that hast power on us, save, if thou wilt; [Ant. 2. 
Let the blind wave breach not thy wall scarce built; 170 
But bless us not so as by bloodshed, impute not for grace 
to us guilt, 
Nor by price of pollution of blood set us free; 
Let the hands be taintless that clasp thy knee, 
Nor a maiden be slain to redeem for a maiden her shrine 
from the sea. 
O earth, O sun, turn back [Str. 3. 

Full on his deadly track 176 

Death, that would smite you black and mar your creatures, 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 111 

And with one hand disroot 
All tender flower and fruit, 
With one strike blind and mute the heaven's fair fea- 
tures, 180 
Pluck out the eyes of morn, and make 
Silence in the east and blackness whence the bright songs 
break 
Help, earth, help, heaven, that hear [Ant. 3. 
The song-notes of our fear, 
Shrewd notes and shrill, not clear or joyful-sounding; 185 
Hear, highest of Gods, and stay 
Death on his hunter's way, 
Full on his forceless prey his beagles hounding; 
Break thou his bow, make short his hand, 
Maim his fleet foot whose passage kills the living land. 190 
Let a third wave smite not us, father, [Str. 4. 
Long since sore smitten of twain, 

Lest the house of thy son's son perish 
And his name be barren on earth. 
Whose race wilt thou comfort rather 195 

If none to thy son remain? 

Whose seed wilt thou choose to cherish 
If his be cut off in the birth? 
For the first fair graft of his graffing [Ant. 4. 

Was rent from its maiden root 200 

By the strong swift hand of a lover 
Who fills the night with his breath; 
On the lip of the stream low-laughing 
Her green soft virginal shoot 

Was plucked from the stream-side cover 205 

By the grasp of a love like death. 
For a God's was the mouth that kissed her [Str. 5. 

Who speaks, and the leaves lie dead, 



112 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

When winter awakes as at warning 

To the sound of his foot from Thrace. 210 

Nor happier the bed of her sister 
Though Love's self laid her abed 

By a bridegroom beloved of the morning 
And fair as the dawn's own face. 
For Procris, ensnared and ensnaring [Ant. 5. 

By the fraud of a twofold wile, 216 

With the point of her own spear stricken 
By the gift of her own hand fell. 
Oversubtle in doubts, overdaring 

In deeds and devices of guile, 220 

And strong to quench as to quicken, 

Blind, Love, they have named thee well. 
By thee was the spear's edge whetted [Str. 6. 

That laid her dead in the dew, 

In the moist green glens of the midland 225 

By her dear lord slain and thee. 
And him at the cliff's end fretted 
By the grey keen waves, him too, 

Thine hand from the white-browed headland 
Flung down for a spoil to the sea. 230 

But enough now of griefs grey-growing [Ant. 6 

Have darkened the house divine, 

Have flowered on its boughs and faded, 
And green is the brave stock yet. 
O father all seeing and all knowing, 235 

Let the last fruit fall not of thine 

From the tree with whose boughs we are shaded, 
From the stock that thy son's hand set. 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 113 

ERECHTHEUS 

O daughter of Cephisus, from all time 

Wise have I found thee, wife and queen, of heart 240 

Perfect; nor in the days that knew not wind 

Nor days when storm blew death upon our peace 

Was thine heart swoln with seed of pride, or bowed 

With blasts of bitter fear that break men's souls 

Who lift too high their minds toward heaven, in thought 

245 
Too godlike grown for worship; but of mood 
Equal, in good time reverent of time bad, 
And glad in ill days of the good that were. 
Nor now too would I fear thee, now misdoubt 
Lest fate should find thee lesser than thy doom, 250 

Chosen if thou be to bear and to be great 
Haply beyond all women; and the word 
Speaks thee divine, dear queen, that speaks thee dead, 
Dead being alive, or quick and dead in one 
Shall not men call thee living? yet I fear 255 

To slay thee timeless with my proper tongue, 
With lips, thou knowest, that love thee; and such work 
Was never laid of Gods on men, such word 
No mouth of man learnt ever, as from mine 
Most loth to speak thine ear most loth shall take 260 
And hold it hateful as the grave to hear. 

PRAXITHEA 

That word there is not in all speech of man, 

King, that being spoken of the Gods and thee 

I have not heart to honour, or dare hold 

More than I hold thee or the Gods in hate 265 

Hearing; but if my heart abhor it heard 



114 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Being insubmissive, hold me not thy wife 
But use me, like a stranger, whom thine hand 
Hath fed by chance and finding thence no thanks 
Flung off for shame's sake to forgetfulness. 270 

ERECHTHEUS 

O, of what breath shall such a word be made, 
Or from what heart find utterance? Would my tongue 
Were rent forth rather from the quivering root 
Than made as fire or poison thus for thee. 

PRAXITHEA 

But if thou speak of blood, and I that hear 275 

Be chosen of all for this land's love to die 
And save to thee thy city, know this well, 
Happiest I hold me of her seed alive. 

ERECHTHEUS 

O sun that seest, what saying was this of thine, 

God, that thy power has breathed into my lips? 280 

For from no sunlit shrine darkling it came. 

PRAXITHEA 

What portent from the mid oracular place 
Hath smitten thee so like a curse that flies 
Wingless, to waste men with its plagues? yet speak. 

ERECHTHEUS 

Thy blood the Gods require not; take this first. 285 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 115 

PRAXITHEA 

To me than thee more grievous this should sound. 

ERECHTHEUS 

That word rang truer and bitterer than it knew. 

PRAXITHEA 

This is not then thy grief, to see me die? 

ERECHTHEUS 

Die shalt thou not, yet give thy blood to death. 

PRAXITHEA 

If this ring worse I know not; strange it rang. 290 

ERECHTHEUS 

Alas, thou knowest not; woe is me that know. 

PRAXITHEA 

And woe shall mine be, knowing; yet halt not here. 

ERECHTHEUS 

Guiltless of blood this state may stand no more. 

PRAXITHEA 

Firm let it stand whatever bleed or fall. 



116 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

ERECHTHEUS 

O Gods, that I should say it shall and weep. 295 

PRAXITHEA 

Weep, and say this? no tears should bathe such words. 

ERECHTHEUS 

Woe's me that I must weep upon them, woe. 

PRAXITHEA 

What stain is on them for thy tears to cleanse? 

ERECHTHEUS 

A stain of blood unpurgeable with tears. 

PRAXITHEA 

Whence? for thou sayest it is and is not mine. 300 

ERECHTHEUS 

Hear then and know why only of all men I 

That bring such news as mine is, I alone 

Must wash good words with weeping; I and thou, 

Woman, must wail to hear men sing, must groan 

To see their joy who love us; all our friends 305 

Save only we, and all save we that love 

This holiness of Athens, in our sight 

Shall lift their hearts up, in our hearing praise 

Gods whom we may not; for to these they give 

Life of their children, flower of all their seed, 310 

For all their travail fruit, for all their hopes 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 117 

Harvest; but we for all our good things, we 
Have at their hands which fill all these folk full 
Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, 
Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; which of these, 315 

Which wilt thou first give thanks for? all are thine. 

PRAXITHEA 

What first they give who give this city good, 

For that first given to save it I give thanks 

First, and thanks heartier from a happier tongue, 

More than for any my peculiar grace 320 

Shown me and not my country; next for this, 

That none of all these but for all these I 

Must bear my burden, and no eye but mine 

Weep of all women's in this broad land born 

Who see their land's deliverance; but much more, 325 

But most for this I thank them most of all, 

That this their edge of doom is chosen to pierce 

My heart and not my country's; for the sword 

Drawn to smite there and sharpened for such stroke 

Should wound more deep than any turned on me. 330 

CHORUS 

Well fares the land that bears such fruit, and well 
The spirit that breeds such thought and speech in man. 

ERECHTHEUS 

woman, thou hast shamed my heart with thine, 

To show so strong a patience; take then all; 

For all shall break not nor bring down thy soul. 335 

The word that journeying to the bright God's shrine 



118 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Who speaks askance and darkling, but his name 

Hath in it slaying and ruin broad writ out, 

I heard, hear thou: thus saith he; There shall die 

One soul for all this people; from thy womb 340 

Came forth the seed that here on dry bare ground 

Death's hand must sow untimely, to bring forth 

Nor blade nor shoot in season, being by name 

To the under Gods made holy, who require 

For this land's life her death and maiden blood 345 

To save a maiden city. Thus I heard, 

And thus with all said leave thee; for save this 

No word is left us, and no hope alive. 

CHORUS 

He hath uttered too surely his wrath not obscurely, nor 
wrapt as in mists of his breath, [Str. 

The master that lightens not hearts he enlightens, but 
gives them foreknowledge of death. 350 

As a bolt from the cloud hath he sent it aloud and pro- 
claimed it afar, 
From the darkness and height of the horror of night hath 
he shown us a star. 
Star may I name it and err not, or flame shall I say, 
Born of the womb that was born for the tomb of the 
day? 
O Night, whom other but thee for mother, and Death for 
the father, Night, [Ant. 

Shall we dream to discover, save thee and thy lover, to 
bring such a sorrow to sight? 356 

From the slumberless bed for thy bed-fellow spread and 
his bride under earth 
Hast thou brought forth a wild and insatiable child, an 
unbearable birth. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 119 

Fierce are the fangs of his wrath, and the pangs that 

they give; 
None is there, none that may bear them, not one that 

would live. 360 

CHTHONIA 

Forth of the fine-spun folds of veils that hide 
My virgin chamber toward the full-faced sun 
I set my foot not moved of mine own will, 
Unmaidenlike, nor with unprompted speed 
Turn eyes too broad or doglike unabashed 365 

On reverend heads of men and thence on thine, 
Mother, now covered from the light and bowed 
As hers who mourns her brethern; but what grief 
Bends thy blind head thus earthward, holds thus mute, 
I know not till thy will be to lift up 370 

Toward mine thy sorrow-muffled eyes and speak; 
And till thy will be would I know this not. 

PRAXITHEA 

Old men and childless, or if sons ye have seen 

And daughters, elder-born were these than mine, 

Look on this child, how young of years, how sweet, 375 

How scant of time and green of age her life 

Puts forth its flower of girlhood; and her gait 

How virginal, how soft her speech, her eyes 

How seemly smiling; wise should all ye be, 

All honourable and kindly men of age; 380 

Now give me counsel and one word to say 

That I may bear to speak, and hold my peace 

Henceforth for all time even as all ye now. 

Dumb are ye all, bowed eyes and tongueless mouths, 



120 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Unprofitable; if this were wind that speaks, 385 

As much its breath might move you. Thou then, child, 

Set thy sweet eyes on mine; look through them well; 

Take note of all the writing of my face 

As of a tablet or a tomb inscribed 

That bears me record; lifeless now, my life 390 

Thereon that was think written; brief to read, 

Yet shall the scripture sear thine eyes as fire 

And leave them dark as dead men's. Nay, dear child, 

Thou hast no skill, my maiden, and no sense 

To take such knowledge; sweet is all thy lore, 395 

And all this bitter; yet I charge thee learn 

And love and lay this up within thine heart, 

Even this my word ; less ill it were to die 

Than live and look upon thy mother dead, 

Thy mother-land that bare thee; no man slain 400 

But him who hath seen it shall men count unblest, 

None blest as him who hath died and seen it not. 

CHTHONIA 

That sight some God keep from me though I die. 

PRAXITHEA 

A God from thee shall keep it; fear not this. 

CHTHONIA 

Thanks all my life long shall he gain of mine. 405 

PRAXITHEA 

Short gain of all yet shall he get of thee. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 121 

CHTHONIA 

Brief be my life, yet so long live my thanks. 

PRAXITHEA 

So long? so little; how long shall they live? 

CHTHONIA 

Even while I see the sunlight and thine eyes. 

PRAXITHEA 

Would mine might shut ere thine upon the sun. 410 

CHTHONIA 

For me thou pray est unkindly; change that prayer. 

PRAXITHEA 

Not well for me thou sayest, and ill for thee. 

CHTHONIA 

Nay, for me well, if thou shalt live, not I. 

PRAXITHEA 

How live, and lose these loving looks of thine? 

CHTHONIA 

It seems I too, thus praying, then, love thee not. 415 

PRAXITHEA 

Lov'st thou not life? what wouldst thou do to die? 



122 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

CHTHONIA 

Well, but not more than all things, love I life. 

PRAXITHEA 

And fain wouldst keep it as thine age allows? 

CHTHONIA 

Fain would I live, and fain not fear to die. 

PRAXITHEA 

That I might bid thee die not! Peace; no more. 420 

CHORUS 

A godlike race of grief the Gods have set 

For these to run matched equal, heart with heart. 

PRAXITHEA 

Child of the chief of Gods, and maiden crowned, 

Queen of these towers and fostress of their king, 

Pallas, and thou my father's holiest head, 425 

A living well of life nor stanched nor stained, 

O God Cephisus, thee too charge I next, 

Be to me judge and witness; nor thine ear 

Shall now my tongue invoke not, thou to me 

Most hateful of things holy, mournfullest 430 

Of all old sacred streams that wash the world, 

Ilissus, on whose marge at flowery play 

A whirlwind-footed bridegroom found my child 

And rapt her northward where mine elder-born 

Keeps now the Thracian bride-bed of a God 435 



Swinburne 9 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 123 

Intolerable to seamen, but this land 

Finds him in hope for her sake favourable, 

A gracious son by wedlock; hear me then 

Thou likewise, if with no faint heart or false 

The word I say be said, the gift be given, 440 

Which might I choose I had rather die than give 

Or speak and die not. Ere thy limbs were made 

Or thine eyes lightened, strife, thou knowest, my child, 

'Twixt God and God had risen, which heavenlier name 

Should here stand hallowed, whose more liberal grace 445 

Should win this city's worship, and our land 

To which of these do reverence; first the lord 

Whose wheels make lightnings of the foam-flowered sea 

Here on this rock, whose height brow-bound with dawn 

Is head and heart of Athens, one sheer blow 450 

Struck, and beneath the triple wound that shook 

The stony sinews and stark roots of the earth 

Sprang toward the sun a sharp salt fount, and sank 

Where lying it lights the heart up of the hill, 

A well of bright strange brine; but she that reared 455 

Thy father with her same chaste fostering hand 

Set for a sign against it in our guard 

The holy bloom of the olive, whose hoar leaf 

High in the shadowy shrine of Pandrosus 

Hath honour of us all; and of this strife 460 

The twelve most high Gods judging with one mouth 

Acclaimed her victress; wroth whereat, as wronged 

That she should hold from him such prize and place, 

The strong king of the tempest-rifted sea 

Loosed reinless on the low Thriasian plain 465 

The thunders of his chariots, swallowing stunned 

Earth, beasts, and men, the whole blind foundering world 



124 Swinburne's Atalania in Calydon and Erechtheus 

That was the sun's at morning, and ere noon 

Death's; nor this only prey fulfilled his mind; 

For with strange crook-toothed prows of Carian folk 470 

Who snatch a sanguine life out of the sea, 

Thieves keen to pluck their bloody fruit of spoil 

From the grey fruitless waters, has their God 

Furrowed our shores to waste them, as the fields 

Were landward harried from the north with swords 475 

Aonian, sickles of man-slaughtering edge 

Ground for no hopeful harvest of live grain 

Against us in Bceotia; these being spent, 

Now this third time his wind of wrath has blown 

Right on this people a mightier wave of war, 480 

Three times more huge a ruin; such its ridge 

Foam-rimmed and hollow like the womb of heaven, 

But black for shining, and with death for life 

Big now to birth and ripe with child, full-blown 

With fear and fruit of havoc, takes the sun 485 

Out of our eyes, darkening the day, and blinds 

The fair sky's face unseasonably with change, 

A cloud in one and billow of battle, a surge 

High reared as heaven with monstrous surf of spears 

That shake on us their shadow, till men's heads 490 

Bend, and their hearts even with its forward wind 

Wither, so blasts all seed in them of hope 

Its breath and blight of presage; yea, even now 

The winter of this wind out of the deeps 

Makes cold our trust in comfort of the Gods 495 

And blinds our eye toward outlook; yet not here, 

Here never shall the Thracian plant on high 

For ours his father's symbol, nor with wreaths 

A strange folk wreathe it upright set and crowned 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 125 

Here where our natural people born behold 500 

The golden Gorgon of the shield's defence 

That screens their flowering olive, nor strange Gods 

Be graced, and Pallas here have praise no more. 

And if this be not I must give my child, 

Thee, mine own very blood and spirit of mine, 505 

Thee to be slain. Turn from me, turn thine eyes 

A little from me; I can bear not yet 

To see if still they smile on mine or no, 

If fear make faint the light in them, or faith 

Fix them as stars of safety. Need have we, 510 

Sore need of stars that set not in mid storm, 

Lights that outlast the lightnings; yet my heart 

Endures not to make proof of thine or these, 

Not yet to know thee whom I made, and bare 

What manner of woman; had I borne thee man, 515 

I had made no question of thine eyes or heart, 

Nor spared to read the scriptures in them writ, 

Wert thou my son; yet couldst thou then but die 

Fallen in sheer fight by chance and charge of spears 

And have no more of memory, fill no tomb 520 

More famous than thy fellows in fair field, 

Where many share the grave, many the praise; 

But one crown shall one only girl my child 

Wear, dead for this dear city, and give back life 

To him that gave her and to me that bare, 525 

And save two sisters living; and all this, 

Is this not all good? I shall give thee, child, 

Thee but by fleshly nature mine, to bleed 

For dear land's love; but if the city fall 

What part is left me in my children then? 530 

But if it stand and thou for it lie dead, 



126 Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Then hast thou in it a better part than we, 

A holier portion than we all; for each 

Hath but the length of his own life to live, 

And this most glorious mother-land on earth 535 

To worship till that life have end; but thine 

Hath end no more than hers; thou, dead, shalt live 

Till Athens live not; for the days and nights 

Given of thy bare brief dark dividual life, 

Shall she give thee half all her agelong own 540 

And all its glory; for thou givest her these; 

But with one hand she takes and gives again 

More than I gave or she requires of thee. 

Come therefore, I will make thee fit for death, 

I that could give thee, dear, no gift at birth 545 

Save of light life that breathes and bleeds, even I 

Will help thee to this better gift than mine 

And lead thee by this little Jiving hand 

That death shall make so strong, to that great end 

Whence it shall lighten like a God's, and strike 550 

Dead the strong heart of battle that would break 

Athens; but ye, pray for this land, old men, 

That it may bring forth never child on earth 

To love it less, for none may more, than we. 

CHORUS 






Out of the north wind grief came forth, [Str. 1. 

And the shining of a sword out of the sea. 556 

Yea, of old the first-blown blast blew the prelude of this 
last, 

The blast of his trumpet upon Rhodope. 
Out of the north skies full of his cloud, 
With the clamour of his storms as of a crowd 560 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 127 

At the wheels of a great king crying aloud, 

At the axle of a strong king's car 

That has girded on the girdle of war — 

With hands that lightened the skies in sunder 

And feet whose fall was followed of thunder, 565 

A God, a great God strange of name, 

With horse-yoke fleeter-hoofed than flame, 
To the mountain bed of a maiden came, 
Oreithyia, the bride mismated, 

Wofully wed in a snow-strewn bed 570 

With a bridegroom that kisses the bride's mouth dead; 
Without garland, without glory, without song, 
As a fawn by night on the hills belated, 
Given over for a spoil unto the strong. 
From lips how pale so keen a wail [Ant. 1. 

At the grasp of a God's hand on her she gave, 576 
When his breath that darkens air made a havoc of her 
hair, 

It rang from the mountain even to the wave; 
Rang with a cry, Woe's me, woe is me! 
From the darkness upon Hasmus to the sea: 580 

And with hands that clung to her new lord's knee; 
As a virgin overborne with shame, 
She besought him by her spouseless fame, 
By the blameless breasts of a maid unmarried 
And locks unmaidenly rent and harried, 585 

And all her flower of body, born 

To match the maidenhood of morn, 
With the might of the wind's wrath wrenched and torn. 
Vain, all vain as a dead man's vision 
Falling by night in his old friend's sight, 590 

To be scattered with slumber and slain ere light; 
Such a breath of such a bridegroom in that hour 



128 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthcus 

Of her prayers made mock, of her fears derision, 
And a ravage of her youth as of a flower. 
With a leap of his limbs as a lion's, a cry from his lips as of 
thunder, [Str. 2. 

In a storm of amorous godhead filled with fire, 596 

From the height of the heaven that was rent with the roar 
of his coming in sunder, 
Sprang the strong God on the spoil of his desire. 
And the pines of the hills were as green reeds shattered, 
And their branches as buds of the soft spring scattered, 

600 
And the west wind and east, and the sound of the south, 
Fell dumb at the blast of the north wind's mouth, 

At the cry of his coming out of heaven. 
And the wild beasts quailed in the rifts and hollows 
Where hound nor clarion of huntsman follows, 605 

And the depths of the sea were aghast, and whitened, 
And the crowns of their waves were as flame that 
lightened, 
And the heart of the floods thereof was riven. 
But she knew not him coming for terror, she felt not her 
wrong that he wrought her, [Ant. 2. 

When her locks as leaves were shed before his breath, 610 
And she heard not for terror his prayer, though the cry was 
a God's that besought her, 
Blown from lips that strew the world-wide seas with 

death. 
For the heart was molten within her to hear, 
And her knees beneath her were loosened for fear, 
And her blood fast bound as a frost-bound water, 615 
And the soft new bloom of the green earth's daughter 

Wind- wasted as blossom of a tree; 
As the wild God rapt her from earth's breast lifted, 
On the strength of the stream of his dark breath drifted, 
From the bosom of earth as a bride from the mother, 620 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 129 

With storm for bridesman and wreck for brother, 
As a cloud that he sheds upon the sea. 

Of this hoary-headed woe [Epode. 

Song made memory long ago; 

Now a younger grief to mourn 625 

Needs a new Gang younger born. 

Who shall teach our tongues to reach 

What strange height of saddest speech, 
For the new bride's sake that is given to be 
A stay to fetter the foot of the sea, 630 

Lest it quite spurn down and trample the town, 
Ere the violets be dead that were plucked for its crown, 
Or its olive-leaf whiten and wither? 

Who shall say of the wind's way 

That he journeyed yesterday, 635 

Or the track of the storm that shall sound to-morrow, 
If the new be more than the grey-grown sorrow? 
For the wind of the green first season was keen, 
And the blast shall be sharper than blew between 

That the breath of the sea blows hither. 640 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

Old men, grey borderers on the march of death, 
Tongue-fighters, tough of talk and sinewy speech, 
Else nerveless, from no crew of such faint folk 
Whose tongues are stouter than their hands come I 
To bid not you to battle; let them strike 645 

Whose swords are sharper than your keen-tongued wail, 
And ye, sit fast and sorrow; but what man 
Of all this land-folk and earth-labouring herd 
For heart or hand seems foremost, him I call 



130 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

If heart be his to hearken, him bid forth 650 

To try if one be in the sun's sight born 
Of all that grope and grovel on dry ground 
That may join hands in battle-grip for death 
With them whose seed and strength is of the sea. 

CHORUS 

Know thou this much for all thy loud blast blown, 655 

We lack not hands to speak with, swords to plead, 

For proof of peril, not of boisterous breath, 

Sea-wind and storm of barren mouths that foam 

And rough rock's edge of menace; and short space 

May lesson thy large ignorance and inform 660 

This insolence with knowledge if there live 

Men earth-begotten of no tenderer thews 

Than knit the great joints of the grim sea's brood 

With hasps of steel together; heaven to help, 

One man shall break, even on their own flood's verge, 665 

That iron bulk of battle; but thine eye 

That sees it now swell higher than sand or shore 

Haply shall see not when thine host shall shrink. 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

Not haply, nay, but surely, shall not thine. 

CHORUS 

That lot shall no God give who fights for thee. 670 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

Shall Gods bear bit and bridle, fool, of men? 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 131 

CHORUS 

Nor them forbid we nor shalt thou constrain. 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

Yet say'st thou none shall make the good lot mine? 

CHORUS 

Of thy side none, nor moved for fear of thee. 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

Gods hast thou then to baffle Gods of ours? 675 

CHORUS 

Nor thine nor mine, but equal-souled are they. 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

Toward good and ill, then, equa]-eyed of soul? 

CHORUS 

Nay, but swift-eyed to note where ill thoughts breed. 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

Thy shaft word-feathered flies yet far of me. 

CHORUS 

Pride knows not, wounded, till the heart be cleft. 680 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

No shaft wounds deep whose wing is plumed with words. 



132 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

CHORUS 

Lay that to heart, and bid thy tongue learn grace. 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

Grace shall thine own crave soon too late of mine. 

CHORUS 

Boast thou till then, but I wage words no more. 

ERECHTHEUS 

Man, what shrill wind of speech and wrangling air 
Blows in our ears a summons from thy lips 
Winged with what message, or what gift or grace 
Requiring? none but what his hand may take 
Here may the foe think hence to reap, nor this 
Except some doom from Godward yield it him. 

HERALD OF EUMOLPUS 

King of this land-folk, by my mouth to thee 
Thus saith the son of him that shakes thine earth, 
Eumolpus; now the stakes of war are set, 
For land or sea to win by throw and wear; 
Choose therefore or to quit thy side and give 
The palm unfought for to his bloodless hand, 
Or by that father's sceptre, and the foot 
Whose tramp far off makes tremble for pure fear 
Thy soul-struck mother, piercing like a sword 
The immortal womb that bare thee; by the waves 
That no man bridles and that bound thy world, 
And by the winds and storms of all the sea, 
He swears to raze from eveshot of the sun 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 133 

This city named not of his father's name, 

And wash to deathward down one flood of doom 705 

This whole fresh brood of earth yeaned naturally, 

Green yet and faint in its first blade, unblown 

With yellow hope of harvest; so do thou, 

Seeing whom thy time is come to meet, for fear 

Yield, or gird up thy force to fight and die. 710 

ERECHTHEUS 

To fight then be it; for if to die or live, 

No man but only a God knows this much yet 

Seeing us fare forth, who bear but in our hands 

The weapons not the fortunes of our fight; 

For these now rest as lots that yet undrawn 715 

Lie in the lap of the unknown hour; but this 

I know, not thou, whose hollow mouth of storm 

Is but a warlike wind, a sharp salt breath 

That bites and wounds not; death nor life of mine 

Shall give to death or lordship of strange kings 720 

The soul of this live city, nor their heel 

Bruise her dear brow discrowned, nor snaffle or goad 

Wound her free mouth or stain her sanguine side 

Yet masterless of man; so bid thy lord 

Learn ere he weep to learn it, and too late 725 

Gnash teeth that could not fasten on her flesh, 

And foam his life out in dark froth of blood 

Vain as a wind's waif of the loud-mouthed sea 

Torn from the wave's edge whitening. Tell him this; 

Though thrice his might were mustered for our scathe 730 

And thicker set with fence of thorn-edged spears 

Than sands are whirled about the wintering beach 

When storms have swoln the rivers, and their blasts 



134 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Have breached the broad sea-banks with stress of sea, 

That waves of inland and the main make war 735 

As men that mix and grapple; though his ranks 

Were more to number than all wildwood leaves 

The wind waves on the hills of all the world, 

Yet should the heart not faint, the head not fall, 

The breath not fail of Athens. Say, the Gods 740 

From lips that have no more on earth to say 

Have told thee this the last good news or ill 

That I shall speak in sight of earth and sun 

Or he shall hear and see them: for the next 

That ear of his from tongue of mine may take 745 

Must be the first word spoken underground 

From dead to dead in darkness. Hence; make haste, 

Lest war's fleet foot be swifter than thy tongue 

And I that part not to return again 

On him that comes not to depart away 750 

Be fallen before thee; for the time is full, 

And with such mortal hope as knows not fear 

I go this high last way to the end of all. 

CHORUS 

Who shall put a bridle in the mourner's lips to chasten 
them, [Str. 1. 

Or seal up the fountains of his tears for shame? 755 
Song nor prayer nor prophecy shall slacken tears nor 
hasten them, 
Till grief be within him as a burnt-out flame; 
Till the passion be broken in his breast 
And the might thereof molten into rest, 
And the rain of eyes that weep be dry, 760 

And the breath be stilled of lips that sigh. 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 135 

Death at last for all men is a harbour; yet they flee from it, 

[Ant. 1. 
Set sails to the storm-wind and again to sea; 
Yet for all their labour no whit further shall they be from it, 
Nor longer but wearier shall their life's work be. 765 
And with anguish of travail until night 
Shall they steer into shipwreck out of sight, 
And with oars that break and shrouds that strain 
Shall they drive whence no ship steers again. 
Bitter and strange is the word of the God most high, [Str . 2. 
And steep the strait of his way, 771 

Through a pass rock-rimmed and narrow the light that 

gleams 
On the faces of men falls faint as the dawn of dreams, 
The dayspring of death as a star in an under sky 

Where night is the dead men's day. 775 

As darkness and storm is his will that on earth is done, 

[Ant. 2. 
As a cloud is the face of his strength. 
King of kings, holiest of holies, and mightiest of might, 
Lord of the lords of thine heaven that are humble in thy 

sight, 
Hast thou set not an end for the path of the fires of the sun, 

780 

To appoint him a rest at length? 

Hast thou told not by measure the waves of the waste wide 

sea, [Str. 2. 

And the ways of the wind their master and thrall to thee? 

Hast thou filled not the furrows with fruit for the 

world's increase? 

Has thine ear not heard from of old or thine eye not read 

785 
The thought and the deed of us living, the doom of us dead? 
Hast thou made not war upon earth, and again 
made peace? 
Therefore, O father, that seest us whose lives are a breath, 

[Ant. 3. 



136 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Take off us thy burden, and give us not wholly to death. 
For lovely is life, and the law wherein all things 
live, 
And gracious the season of each, and the hour of its kind, 

791 
And precious the seed of his life in a wise man's mind; 
But all save life for his life will a base man give. 
But a life that is given for the life of the whole live land, 

[Str. 4. 
From a heart unspotted a gift of a spotless hand, 795 
Of pure will perfect and free, for the land's life's sake, 
What man shall fear not to put forth his hand and take? 
For the fruit of a sweet life plucked in its pure green prime 

[Ant. 4. 
On his hand who plucks is as blood, on his soul as crime. 
With cursing ye buy not blessing, nor peace with strife, 800 
And the hand is hateful that chaffers with death for life. 
Hast thou heard, O my heart, and endurest [Str. 5. 

The word that is said, 
What a garland by sentence found surest 

Is wrought for what head? 805 

With what blossomless flowerage of sea-foam and blood- 
coloured foliage inwound 
It shall crown as a heifer's for slaughter the forehead for 
marriage uncrowned? 

How the veils and the wreaths that should cover 

[Ant. 5. 
The brows of the bride 
Shall be shed by the breath of what lover 810 

And scattered aside? 
With a blast of the mouth of what bridegroom the crowns 

shall be cast from her hair, 
And her head by what altar made humble be left of them 

naked and bare? 
At a shrine unbeloved of a God unbeholden a gift shall be 
given for the land, [Str. 6. 



Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 137 

That its ramparts though shaken with clamour and horror 

of manifold waters may stand: 815 

That the crests of its citadels crowned and its turrets that 

thrust up their heads to the sun 
May behold him unblinded with darkness of waves over- 
mastering their bulwarks begun. 
As a bride shall they bring her, a prey for the bridegroom, a 
flower for the couch of her lord; [Ant. 6. 

They shall muffle her mouth that she cry not or curse them, 

and cover her eyes from the sword. 

They shall fasten her lips as with bit and with bridle, and 

darken the light of her face, 820 

That the soul of the slayer may not falter, his heart be not 

molten, his hand give not grace. 

If she weep then, yet may none that hear take pity; 

[Str. 7. 
If she cry not, none should hearken though she cried. 
Shall a virgin shield thine head for love, O city, 

With a virgin's blood anointed as for pride? 825 

Yet we held thee dear and hallowed of her favour, [Ant. 7. 

Dear of all men held thy people to her heart; 
Nought she loves the breath of blood, the sanguine 

savour, 
Who hath built with us her throne and chosen her part, 
Bloodless are her works, and sweet [Epode. 

All the ways that feel her feet; 831 

From the empire of her eyes 
Light takes life and darkness flies; 
From the harvest of her hands 
Wealth strikes root in prosperous lands; 835 

Wisdom of her word is made; 
At her strength is strength afraid; 
From the beam of her bright spear 
War's fleet foot goes back for fear; 



138 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

In her shrine she reared the birth 840 

Fire-begotten on live earth; 

Glory from her helm was shed 

On his olive-shadowed head; 

By no hand but his shall she 

Scourage the storms back of the sea, 845 

To no fame but his shall give 

Grace being dead with hers to live, 

And in double name divine 

Half the godhead of their shrine. 
But now with what word, with what woe may we meet 850 
The timeless passage of piteous feet, 
Hither that bend to the last way's end 

They shall walk upon earth? 
What song be rolled for a bride black-stoled 
And the mother whose hand of her hand hath hold? 855 
For anguish of heart is my soul's strength broken 
And the tongue sealed fast that would fain have spoken, 
To behold thee, O child of so bitter a birth 

That we counted so sweet, 
What way thy steps to what bride-feast tend, 860 

What gift he must give that shall wed thee for token 
If the bridegroom be goodly to greet. 



CHTHONIA 

People, old men of my city, lordly wise and hoar of head, 
I a spouseless bride and crownless but with garlands of the 

dead 
From the fruitful light turn silent to my dark unchilded 

bed. 

CHORUS 

Wise of word was he too surely, but with deadlier wisdom 
wise, 866 



Swinburne'' s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 139 

First who gave thee name from under earth, no breath 
from upper skies, 

When, foredoomed to this day's darkness, their first day- 
light filled thine eyes. 

PRAXITHEA 

Child, my child that wast and art but death's and now no 

more of mine, 
Half my heart is cloven with anguish by the sword made 

sharp for thine, 870 

Half exalts its wing for triumph, that I bare thee thus 

divine. 

CHTHONIA 

Though for me the sword's edge thirst that sets no point 

against thy breast, 
Mother, O my mother, where I drank of life and fell on rest. 
Thine, not mine, is all the grief that marks this hour 

accurst and blest. 

CHORUS 

Sweet thy sleep and sweet the bosom was that gave thee 
sleep and birth; 875 

Harder now the breast, and girded with no marriage-band 
for girth, 

Where thine head shall sleep, the namechild of the lords of 
under earth. 

PRAXITHEA 

Dark the name and dark the gifts they gave thee, child, in 

childbirth were, 
Sprung from him that rent the womb of earth, a bitter seed 

to bear, 
Born with groanings of the ground that gave him way 

toward heaven's dear air. 880 



140 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

CHTHONIA 

Day to day makes answer, first to last, and life to death; 

but I, 
Born for death's sake, die for life's sake, if indeed this be to 

die, 
This my doom that seals me deathless til] the springs of 

time run dry. 

CHORUS 

Children shalt thou bear to memory, that to man shalt 

bring forth none; 
Yea, the lordliest that lift eyes and hearts and songs to 

meet the sun, 885 

Names to fire men's ears like music till the round world's 

race be run. 

PRAXITHEA 

I thy mother, named of Gods that wreak revenge and 

brand with blame, 
Now for thy love shall be loved as thou, and famous with 

thy fame, 
While this city's name on earth shall be for earth her 

mightiest name. 

CHTHONIA 

That I may give this poor girl's blood of mine 890 

Scarce yet sun-warmed with summer, this thin life 

Still green with flowerless growth of seedling days, 

To build again my city; that no drop 

Fallen of these innocent veins on the cold ground 

But shall help knit the joints of her firm walls 895 

To knead the stones together, and make sure 

The band about her maiden girdlestead 

Once fastened, and of all men's violent hands 

Inviolable for ever; these to me 



Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 141 

Were no such gifts as crave no thanksgiving, 900 

If with one blow dividing the sheer life 

I might make end, and one pang wind up all 

And seal mine eyes from sorrow; for such end 

The Gods give none they love not; but my heart, 

That leaps up lightened of all sloth or fear 905 

To take the sword's point, yet with one thought's load 

Flags, and falls back, broken of wing, that halts 

Maimed in mid flight for thy sake and borne down, 

Mother, that in the places where I played 

An arm's length from thy bosom and no more 910 

Shalt find me never, nor thine eye wax glad 

To mix with mine its eyesight and for love 

Laugh without word, filled with sweet light, and speak 

Divine dumb things of the inward spirit and heart, 

Moved silently; nor hand or lip again 915 

Touch hand or lip of either, but for mine 

Shall thine meet only shadows of swift night, 

Dreams and dead thoughts of dead things; and the bed 

Thou strewedst, a sterile place for all time, strewn 

For my sleep only, with its void sad sheets 920 

Shall vex thee, and the unfruitful coverlid 

For empty days reproach me dead, that leave 

No profit of my body, but am gone 

As one not worth being born to bear no seed, 

A sapless stock and branchless; yet thy womb 925 

Shall want not honour of me, that brought forth 

For all this people freedom, and for earth 

From the unborn city born out of my blood 

To light the face of all men evermore 

Glory; but lay thou this to thy great heart 930 

Whereunder in the dark of birth conceived 



142 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechiheus 

Mine unlit life lay girdled with the zone 

That bound thy bridal bosom; set this thought 

Against all edge of evil as a sword 

To beat back sorrow, that for all the world 935 

Thou brought'st me forth a saviour, who shall save 

Athens; for none but I from none but thee 

Shall take this death for garland; and the men 

Mine unknown children of unsounded years, 

My sons unrisen shall rise up at thine hand, 940 

Sown of thy seed to bring forth seed to thee, 

And call thee most of all most fruitful found 

Blessed; but me too for my barren womb 

More than my sisters for their children born 

Shall these give honour, yea in scorn's own place 945 

Shall men set love and bring for mockery praise 

And thanks for curses; for the dry wild vine 

Scoffed at and cursed of all men that was I 

Shall shed them wine to make the world's heart warm, 

That all eyes seeing may lighten, and all ears 950 

Hear and be kindled; such a draught to drink 

Shall be the blood that bids this dust bring forth, 

The chaliced life here spilt on this mine earth, 

Mine, my great father's mother; whom I pray 

Take me now gently, tenderly take home, 955 

And softly lay in his my cold chaste hand 

Who is called of men by my name, being of Gods 

Charged only and chosen to bring men under earth, 

And now must lead and stay me with his staff 

A silent soul led of a silent God, 960 

Toward sightless things led sightless; and on earth 

I see now but the shadow of mine end, 

And this last night of all for me in heaven. 



Swinburne' } s Alalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 143 

PRAXITHEA 

Farewell I bid thee; so bid thou not me, 

Lest the Gods hear and mock us; yet on these 965 

I lay the weight not of this grief, nor cast 

111 words for ill deeds back; for if one say 

They have done men wrong, what hurt have they to hear 

Or he what help to have said it? surely, child, 

If one among men born might say it and live 970 

Blameless, none more than I may, who being vexed 

Hold yet my peace; for now through tears enough 

Mine eyes have seen the sun that from this day 

Thine shall see never more; and in the night 

Enough has blown of evil, and mine ears 975 

With wail enough the winds have filled, and brought 

Too much of cloud from over the sharp sea 

To mar for me the morning; such a blast 

Rent from these wide void arms and helpless breast 

Long since one graft of me disbranched, and bore 980 

Beyond the wild ways of the unwandered world 

And loud wastes of the thunder-throated sea, 

Springs of the night and openings of the heaven, 

The old garden of the Sun; whence never more 

From west or east shall winds bring back that blow 985 

From folds of opening heaven or founts of night 

The flower of mine once ravished, born my child 

To bear strange children; nor on wings of theirs 

Shall comfort come back to me, nor their sire 

Breathe help upon my peril, nor his strength 990 

Raise up my weakness; but of Gods and men 

I drift unsteered on ruin, and the wave 

Darkens my head with imminent height, and hangs 



144 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Dumb, filled too full with thunder that shall leave 
These ears death-deafened when the tide finds tongue 995 
And all its wrath bears on them; thee, O child, 
I help not, nor am holpen; fain, ah, fain, 
More than was ever mother born of man, 
Were I to help thee; fain beyond all prayer, 
Beyond all thought fain to redeem thee, torn 1000 

More timeless from me sorrowing than the dream 
That was thy sister; so shalt thou be too, 
Thou but a vision, shadow-shaped of sleep, 
By grief made out of nothing; now but once 
I touch, but once more hold thee, one more kiss 1005 

This last time and none other ever more 
Leave on thy lips and leave them. Go; thou wast 
My heart, my heart's blood, life-blood of my life, 
My child, my nursling: now this breast once thine 
Shall rear again no children; never now 1010 

Shall any mortal blossom born like thee 
Lie there, nor ever with small silent mouth 
Draw the sweet springs dry for an hour that feed 
The blind blithe life that knows not; never head 
Rest here to make these cold veins warm, nor eye 1015 
Laugh itself open with the lips that reach 
Lovingly toward a fount more loving; these 
Death makes as all good lesser things now dead, 
And all the latter hopes that flowered from these 
And fall as these fell fruitless; no joy more 1020 

Shall man take of thy maidenhood, no tongue 
Praise it; no good shall eyes get more of thee 
That lightened for thy love's sake. Now, take note, 
Give ear, O all ye people, that my word 
May pierce your hearts through, and the stroke that 
cleaves 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 145 

Be fruitful to them; so shall all that hear 1026 

Grow great at heart with child of thought most high 

And bring forth seed in season; this my child, 

This flower of this my body, this sweet life, 

This fair live youth I give you, to be slain, 1030 

Spent, shed, poured out, and perish; take my gift 

And give it death and the under Gods who crave 

So much for that they give; for this is more, 

Much more is this than all we; for they give 

Freedom, and for a blast, an air of breath, 1035 

A little soul that is not, they give back 

Light for all eyes, cheer for all hearts, and life 

That fills the world's width full of fame and praise 

And mightier love than children's. This they give, 

The grace to make thy country great, and wrest 1040 

From time and death power to take hold on her 

And strength to scathe for ever; and this gift, 

Is this no more than man's love is or mine, 

Mine and all mothers'? nay, where that seems more, 

Where one loves life of child, wife, father, friend, 1045 

Son, husband, mother, more than this, even there 

Are all these lives worth nothing, all loves else 

With this love slain and buried, and their tomb 

A thing for shame to spit on; for what love 

Hath a slave left to love with? or the heart 1050 

Base-born and bound in bondage fast to fear, 

What should it do to love thee? what hath he, 

The man that hath no country? Gods nor men 

Have such to friend, yoked beast-like to base life, 

Vile, fruitless, grovelling at the foot of death, 1055 

Landless and kinless thralls of no man's blood, 

Unchilded and unmothered, abject limbs 



146 Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

That breed things abject; but who loves on earth 

Not friend, wife, husband, father, mother, child, 

Nor loves his own life for his own land's sake, 1060 

But only this thing most, more this than all, 

He loves all well and well of all is loved, 

And this love lives for ever. See now, friends, 

My countrymen, my brothers, with what heart 

I give you this that of your hands again 1065 

The Gods require for Athens; as I give 

So give ye to them what their hearts would have 

Who shall give back things better; yea, and these 

I take for me to witness, all these Gods, 

Were their great will more grievous than it is, 

Not one but three, for this one thin-spun thread 

A threefold band of children would I give 

For this land's love's sake; for whose love to-day 

I bid thee, child, fare deathward and farewell. 

CHORUS 

O wofullest of women, yet of all 1075 

Happiest, thy word be hallowed; in all time 

Thy name shall blossom, and from strange new tongues 

High things be spoken of thee; for such grace 

The Gods have dealt to no man, that on none 

Have laid so heavy sorrow. From this day 1080 

Live thou assured of godhead in thy blood, 

And in thy fate no lowlier than a God 

In all good things and evil; such a name 

Shall be thy child this city's, and thine own 

Next hers that called it Athens. Go now forth 1085 

Blest, and grace with thee to the doors of death. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 147 

i 

CHTHONIA 

O city, O glory of Athens, O crown of my father's land, 
farewell. 

CHORUS 

For welfare is given her of thee. 

CHTHONIA 

Goddess, be good to thy people, that in them dominion 

and freedom may dwell. 

CHORUS 

Turn from us the strengths of the sea. 1090 

CHTHONIA 

Let glory's and theirs be one name in the mouths of all 
nations made glad with the sun. 

CHORUS 

For the cloud is blown back with my breath. 

CHTHONIA 

With the long last love of mine eyes I salute thee, 
O land where my days now are done. 

CHORUS 

But her life shall be born of thy death. 1095 

CHTHONIA 

1 put on me the darkness thy shadow, my mother, and 

symbol, 
O Earth, of my name. 



148 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

CHORUS 

For thine was her witness from birth. 

CHTHONIA 

In thy likeness I come to thee darkling, a daughter whose 
dawn and her even are the same. 

CHORUS 

Be thine heart to her gracious, O Earth. 

CHTHONIA 

To thine own kind be kindly, for thy son's name's sake. 

1100 

CHORUS 

That sons unborn may praise thee and thy first-born son. 

CHTHONIA 

Give me thy sleep, who give thee all my life awake. 

CHORUS 

Too swift a sleep, ere half the web of day be spun. 

CHTHONIA 

Death brings the shears or ever life wind up the weft. 

CHORUS 

Their edge is ground and sharpened; who shall stay his 
hand? 1105 

CHTHONIA 

The woof is thin, a small short life, with no thread left. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 149 

CHORUS 

Yet hath it strength, stretched out, to shelter all the land. 

CHTHONIA 

Too frail a tent for covering, and a screen too strait. 

CHORUS 

Yet broad enough for buckler shall thy sweet life be. 

CHTHONIA 

A little bolt to bar off battle from the gate. 1100 

CHORUS 

A wide sea-wall, that shatters the besieging sea. 

CHTHONIA 

I lift up mine eyes from the skirts of the shadow, [Str. 

From the border of death to the limits of light; 
O streams and rivers of mountain and meadow 

That hallow the last of my sight, 1115 

O father that wast of my mother 

Cephisus, O thou too his brother 

From the bloom of whose banks as a prey 

Winds harried my sister away, 

O crown on the world's head lying 1120 

Too high for its waters to drown, 
Take yet this one word of me dying, 
O city, O crown. 
Though land-wind and sea-wind with mouths that blow 
slaughter [Ant. 



150 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Should gird them to battle against thee again, 1125 
New-born of the blood of a maiden thy daughter, 
The rage of their breath shall be vain. 
For their strength shall be quenched and made idle, 
And the foam of their mouths find a bridle, 
And the height of their heads bow down 1130 

At the foot of the towers of the town. 
Be blest and beloved as I love thee 

Of all that shall draw from thee breath; 
Be thy life as the sun's is above thee; 

I go to my death. 1135 

CHORUS 

Many loves of many a mood and many a kind [Str. 1 
Fill the life of man, and mould the secret mind; 
Many days bring many dooms, to loose and bind; 
Sweet is each in season, good the gift it brings, 
Sweet as change of night and day with altering wings, 

1140 

Night that lulls world-weary day, day that comforts night, 

Night that fills our eyes with sleep, day that fills with light. 

None of all is lovelier, loftier love is none, [Ant. 1. 

Less is bride's for bridegroom, mother's less for son, 

Child, than this that crowns and binds up all in one; 1 145 

Love of thy sweet light, thy fostering breast and hand, 

Mother Earth, and city chosen, and natural land; 

Hills that bring the strong streams forth, heights of 

heavenlier air, 
Fields aflower with winds and suns, woods with shadowing 
hair. 1149 

But none of the nations of men shall they liken to thee, 

[Str. 2. 
Whose children true-born and the fruit of thy body are we. 






Swinburne' s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 151 

The rest are thy sons but in figure, in word are thy seed; 
We only the flower of thy travail, thy children indeed. 
Of thy soil hast thou fashioned our limbs, of thy waters 

their blood, 
And the life of thy springs everlasting is fount of our flood. 
No wind oversea blew us hither adrift on thy shore, 1156 
None sowed us by land in thy womb that conceived us and 

bore. 
But the stroke of the shaft of the sunlight that brought us 

to birth 
Pierced only and quickened thy furrows to bear us, O 

Earth. 
With the beams of his love wast thou cloven as with iron or 

fire, 1160 

And the life in thee yearned for his life, and grew great with 

desire. . 
And the hunger and thirst to be wounded and healed with 

his dart 
Made fruitful the love in thy veins and the depth of thine 

heart. 
And the showers out of heaven overflowing and liquid with 

love 1164 

Fulfilled thee with child of his godhead as rain from above. 
Such desire had ye twain of each other, till molten in one 

[Ant. 2. 
Ye might bear and beget of your bodies the fruits of the 

sun. 
And the trees in their season brought forth and were 

kindled anew 
By the warmth of the moisture of marriage, the child- 
bearing dew. 
And the firstlings were fair of the wedlock of heaven and of 

earth; 1170 

All countries were bounteous with blossom and burgeon of 

birth. 



152 Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Green pastures of grass for all cattle, and life-giving corn; 
But here of thy bosom, here only, the man-child was born. 
All races but one are as aliens engrafted or sown, 
Strange children and changelings; but we, O our mother, 
thine own. 1175 

Thy nurslings are others, and seedlings they know not of 

whom; 
For these hast thou fostered, but us thou hast borne in thy 

womb. 
Who is he of us all, O beloved, that owe thee for birth, 
Who would give not his blood for his birth's sake, O 

mother, O Earth? 
What landsman is he that was fostered and reared of thine 
hand 1180 

Who may vaunt him as we may in death though he died 

for the land? 
Well doth she therefore who gives thee in guerdon 

The bloom of the life of thy giving; [Epode. 

And thy body was bowed by no fruitless burden, 

That bore such fruit of thee living. 1185 

For her face was not darkened for fear, 
For her eyelids conceived not a tear, 

Nor a cry from her lips craved pity; 
But her mouth was a fountain of song, 
And her heart as a citadel strong 1190 

That guards the heart of the city. 

MESSENGER 

High things of strong-souled men that loved their land 
On brass and stone are written, and their deeds 
On high days chanted; but none graven or sung 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 153 

That ever set men's eyes or spirits on fire, 1195 

Athenians, has the sun's height seen, or earth 

Heard in her depth reverberate as from heaven, 

More worth men's praise and good report of Gods 

Than here I bring for record in your ears. 

For now being come to the altar, where as priest 1200 

Death ministering should meet her, and his hand 

Seal her sweet eyes asleep, the maiden stood, 

With light in all her face as of a bride 

Smiling, or shine of festal flame by night 

Far flung from towers of triumph; and her lips 1205 

Trembled with pride in pleasure, that no fear 

Blanched them nor death before his time drank dry 

The blood whose bloom fulfilled them ; for her cheeks 

Lightened, and brighter than a bridal veil 

Her hair enrobed her bosom and enrolled 1210 

From face to feet the body's whole soft length 

As wih a cloud sun-saturate; then she spake 

With maiden tongue words manlike, but her eyes 

Lit mildly like a maiden's: Countrymen, 

With more goodwill and height of happier heart 1215 

/ give me to you than my mother bare, 

And go more gladly this great way to death 

Than young men bound to battle. Then with face 

Turned to the shadowiest part of all the shrine 

And eyes fast set upon the further shade, 1220 

Take me, dear Gods; and as some form had shone 

From the deep hollow shadow, some God's tongue 

Answered, / bless you that your guardian grace 

Gives me to guard this country, takes my blood, 

Your child's by name, to heal it. Then the priest 1225 

Set to the flower-sweet snow of her soft throat 



154 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

The sheer knife's edge that severed it, and loosed 

From the fair bondage of so spotless flesh 

So strong a spirit; and all that girt them round 

Gazing, with souls that hung on that sad stroke, 1230 

Groaned, and kept silence after while a man 

Might count how far the fresh blood crept, and bathed 

How deep the dark robe and the bright shrine's base 

Red-rounded with a running ring that grew 

More large and duskier as the wells that fed 1235 

Were drained of that pure effluence: but the queen 

Groaned not nor spake nor wept, but as a dream 

Floats out of eyes awakening so past forth 

Ghost-like, a shadow of sorrow, from all sight 

To the inner court and charnber where she sits 1240 

Dumb, till word reach her of this whole day's end. 

CHORUS 

More hapless born by far [Str. 

Beneath some wintrier star, 
One sits in stone among high Lydian snows, 

The tomb of her own woes: 1245 

Yet happiest was once of the daughters of Gods, and 

divine by her sire and her lord, 
Ere her tongue was a shaft for the hearts of her sons, for the 
heart of her husband a sword. 

For she, too great of mind, [Ant. 

Grown through her good things blind, 
With godless lips and fire of her own breath 1250 

Spake all her house to death; 
But thou, no mother unmothered, nor kindled in spirit 
with pride of thy seed, 



Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 155 

Thou hast hallowed thy child for a blameless blood-offering 
and ransomed thy race by thy deed. 

MESSENGER 

As flower is graffed on flower, so grief on grief 

Engraffed brings forth new blossoms of strange tears, 1255 

Fresh buds and green fruits of an alien pain; 

For now flies rumour on a dark wide wing, 

Murmuring of woes more than ye knew, most like 

Hers whom ye hailed most wretched; for the twain 

Last left of all this house that wore last night 1260 

A threefold crown of maidens, and to-day 

Should let but one fall dead out of the wreath, 

If mad with grief we know not and sore love 

For this their sister, or with shame soul-stung 

To outlive her dead or doubt lest their lives too 1265 

The Gods require to seal their country safe 

And bring the oracular doom to perfect end, 

Have slain themselves, and fallen at the a] tar-foot 

Lie by their own hands done to death; and fear 

Shakes all the city as winds a wintering tree, 1270 

And as dead leaves are men's hearts blown about 

And shrunken with ill thoughts, and flowerless hopes 

Parched up with presage, lest the piteous blood 

Shed of these maidens guiltless fall and fix 

On this land's forhead like a curse that cleaves 1275 

To the unclean soul's inexpiate hunted head 

Whom his own crime tracks hotlier than a hound 

To life's veiled end unsleeping; and this hour 

Now blackens toward the battle that must close 

All gates of hope and fear on all their hearts 1280 

Who tremble toward its issue, knowing not yet 



156 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

If blood may buy them surety, cleanse or soil 
The helpless hands men raise and reach no stay. 

CHORUS 

111 thoughts breed fear, and fear ill words; but these 
The Gods turn from us that have kept their law. 1285 
Let us lift up the strength of our hearts in song, [Str. 1. 
And our souls to the height of the darkling day. 
If the wind in our eyes blow blood for spray, 
Be the spirit that breathes in us life more strong, 
Though the prow reel round and the helm point wrong, 
And sharp reefs whiten the shoreward way. 1291 

For the steerman time sits hidden astern, [Ant. 1. 

With dark hand plying the rudder of doom, 

And the surf-smoke under it flies like fume 
As the blast shears off and the oar-blades churn 1295 
The foam of our lives that to death return, 

Blown back as they break to the gulfing gloom. 
What cloud upon heaven is arisen, what shadow, what 
sound, [Str. 2. 

From the world beyond earth, from the night under- 
ground, 
That scatters from wings unbeholden the weight of its 
darkness around? 1300 

For the sense of my spirit is broken, and blinded its eye, 

[Ant. 2. 
As the soul of a sick man ready to die, 
With fear of the hour that is on me, with dread if an end be 
not nigh. 
O Earth, O Gods of the land, have ye heart now to see 
and to hear [Str. 3. 

What slays with terror mine eyesight and seals mine 
ear? 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 157 

O fountains of streams everlasting, are all ye not shrunk up 
and withered for fear? 1306 

Lo, night is arisen on the noon, and her hounds are in 
quest by day, [Ant. 3. 

And the world is fulfilled of the noise of them crying 
for their prey, 
And the sun's self stricken in heaven, and cast out of his 
course as a blind man astray. 
From east to west of the south sea-line [Str. 4. 

Glitters the lightning of spears that shine; 1311 

As a storm-cloud swoln that comes up from the skirts of the 
sea 
By the wind for helmsman to shoreward ferried, 
So black behind them the live storm serried 
Shakes earth with the tramp of its foot, and the terror to 
be. 
Shall the sea give death whom the land gave birth? 

[Ant. 4. 
O Earth, fair mother, O sweet live Earth, 1317 

Hide us again in thy womb from the waves of it, help us or 
hide. 
As a sword is the heart of the God thy brother, 
But thine as the heart of a new-made mother, 1320 
To deliver thy sons from his ravin, and rage of his tide. 
O strong north wind, the pilot of cloud and rain, [Str. 5. 
For the gift we gave thee what gift hast thou given us 
again? 
O God dark-winged, deep-throated, a terror to forthfaring 
ships by night, 
What bride-song is this that is blown on the blast of thy 
breath? 1325 

A gift but of grief to thy kinsmen, a song but of death, 
For the bride's folk weeping, and woe for her father, who 
finds thee against him in fight. 
Turn back from us, turn thy battle, take heed of our cry; 

[Ant. 5. 



158 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Let thy dread breath sound, and the waters of war be 
dry; 
Let thy strong wrath shatter the strength of our foemen, 
the sword of their strength and the shield; 1330 

As vapours in heaven, or as waves or the wrecks of ships, 
So break thou the ranks of their spears with the breath 
of thy lips, 
Till their corpses have covered and clothed as with raiment 
the face of the sword-ploughed field. 
O son of the rose-red morning, O God twin-born with the 
day, [Str. 6. 

O wind with the young sun waking, and winged for the 
same wide way, 1335 

Give up not the house of thy kin to the host thou hast 
marshalled from northward for prey. 
From the cold of thy cradle in Thrace, from the mists of 
the fountains of night, [Ant. 6. 

From the bride-bed of dawn whence day leaps laughing, 
on fire for his flight, 
Come down with their doom in thine hand on the ships 

thou hast brought up against us to fight. 
For now not in word but in deed is the harvest of spears 
begun, [Str. 7. 

And its clamour outbellows the thunder, its lightning out- 
lightens the sun. 1341 
From the springs of the morning it thunders and lightens 

across and afar 
To the wave where the moonset ends and the fall of the last 

low star. 
With a trampling of drenched red hoofs and an earthquake 

of men that meet, 
Strong war sets hand to the scythe, and the furrows take 
fire from his feet. 1345 



Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 159 

Earth groans from her great rent heart, and the hollows of 

rocks are afraid, 
And the mountains are moved, and the valleys as waves in 

a storm-wind swayed. 
From the roots of the hills to the plain's dim verge and the 

dark loud shore, 
Air shudders with shrill spears crossing, and hurtling of 

wheels that roar. 
As the grinding of teeth in the jaws of a lion that foam as 

they gnash 1350 

Is the shriek of the axles that loosen, the shock of the poles 

that crash. 
The dense manes darken and glitter, the mouths of the 

mad steeds champ, 
Their heads flash blind though the battle, and death's foot 

rings in their tramp. 
For a fourfold host upon earth and in heaven is arrayed for 

the fight, 
Clouds ruining in thunder and armies encountering as 

clouds in the night 1355 

Mine ears are amazed with the terror of trumpets, with 

darkness mine eyes, 
At the sound of the sea's host charging that deafens the 

roar of the sky's. 
White frontlet is dashed upon frontlet, and horse against 

horse reels hurled, 
And the gorge of the gulfs of the battle is wide for the spoil 

of the world. 
And the meadows are cumbered with shipwreck of chariots 

that founder on land, [Ant. 7. 

And the horsemen are broken with breach as of breakers, 

and scattered as sand. 1361 



160 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Through the roar and recoil of the charges that mingle 

their cries and confound, 
Like fire are the notes of the trumpets that flash through 

the darkness of sound. 
As the swing of the sea churned yellow that sways with the 

wind as it swells 
Is the lift and relapse of the wave of the chargers that clash 

with their bells; 1365 

And the clang of the sharp shrill brass through the burst of 

the wave as it shocks 
Rings clean as the clear wind's cry through the roar of the 

surge on the rocks: 
And the heads of the steeds in their headgear of war, and 

their corsleted breasts, 
Gleam broad as the brows of the billows that brighten the 

storm with their crests, 
Gleam dread as their bosoms that heave to the shipwreck- 
ing wind as they rise, 1370 
Filled full of the terror and thunder of water, that slays as 

it dies. 
So dire is the glare of their foreheads, so fearful the fire of 

their breath, 
And the light of their eyeballs enkindled so bright with the 

lightnings of death; 
And the foam of their mouths as the sea's when the jaws of 

its gulf are as graves, 
And the ridge of their necks as the wind-shaken mane on 

the ridges of waves: 1375 

And their fetlocks afire as they rear drip thick with a dew- 
fall of blood 
As the lips of the rearing breaker with froth of the manslay- 

ing flood. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 161 

And the whole plain reels and resounds as the fields of the 

sea by night 
When the stroke of the wind falls darkling, and death is the 

seafarer's light. 

But thou, fair beauty of heaven, dear face of the day nigh 

dead, [Epode. 

What horror hath hidden thy glory, what hand hath 

muffled thine head? 1381 

O sun, with what song shall we call thee, or ward off thy 

wrath by what name, 

With what prayer shall we seek to thee, soothe with what 

incense, assuage with what gift, 
If thy light be such only as lightens to deathward the sea- 
man adrift 
With the fire of his house for a beacon, that foemen have 
wasted with flame? 1385 

Arise now, lift up thy light; give ear to us, put forth thine 

hand, 
Reach toward us thy torch of deliverance, a lamp for the 
night of the land. 
Thine eye is the light of the living, no lamp for the dead; 
O, lift up the light of thine eye on the dark of our dread. 
Who hath blinded thee? who hath prevailed on thee? 
who hath ensnared? 1390 

Who hath broken thy bow, and the shafts for thy battle 
prepared? 
Have they found out a fetter to bind thee, a chain for thine 

arm that was bared? 
Be the name of thy conqueror set forth, and the might of 
thy master declared. 
O God, fair God of the morning, glory of day, 



162 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

What ails thee to cast from thy forehead its garland away? 

To pluck from thy temples their chaplet enwreathed of 

the light, 1396 

And bind on the brows of thy godhead a frontlet of 

night? 

Thou hast loosened the necks of thine horses, and goaded 

their flanks with affright, 

To the race of a course that we know not on ways that are 

hid from our sight. 

As a wind through the darkness the wheels of their 

chariot are whirled, 1400 

And the light of its passage is night on the face of the 

world. 
And there falls from the wings of thy glory no help from 

on high, 
But a shadow that smites us with fear and desire of thine 
eye. 
For our hearts are as reeds that a wind on the water bows 

down and goes by, 
To behold not thy comfort in heaven that hath left us un- 
timely to die. 1405 
But what light is it now leaps forth on the land 
Enkindling the waters and ways of the air 
From thy forehead made bare, 
From the gleam of thy bow-bearing hand? 
Hast thou set not thy left hand again to the string, 1410 
With the back-bowed horns bent sharp for a spring 
And the barbed shaft drawn, 
Till the shrill steel sing and the tense nerve ring 
That pierces the heart of the dark with dawn, 

O huntsman, O king, 1415 

When the flame of thy face hath twilight in chase 

As a hound hath a blood-mottled fawn? 
He has glanced into golden the grey sea-strands, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 163 

And the clouds are shot through with the fires of his hands, 
And the height of the hollow of heaven that he fills 1420 
As the heart of a strong man is quickened and thrills: 
High over the folds of the low-lying lands, 
On the shadowless hills 

As a guard on his watchtower he stands. 
All earth and all ocean, all depth and all height, 1425 
At the flash of an eyebeam are filled with his might: 
The sea roars backward, the storm drops dumb, 
And silence as dew on the fire of the fight 
Falls kind in our ears as his face in our sight 

With presage of peace to come. 1430 

Fresh hope in my heart from the ashes of dread 
Leaps clear as a flame from the pyres of the dead, 

That joy out of woe 
May arise as the spring out of tempest and snow, 
With the flower-feasted month in her hands rose-red 1435 
Borne soft as a babe from the bearing-bed. 
Yet it knows not indeed if a God be friend, 
If rescue may be from the rage of the sea, 

Or the wrath of its lord have end. 

For the season is full now of death or of birth, 1440 

To bring forth life, or an end of all; 

And we know not if anything stand or fall 

That is girdled about with the round sea's girth 
As a town with its wall; 

But thou that art highest of the Gods most high, 1445 

That art lord if we live, that art lord though we die, 

Have heed of the tongues of our terror that cry 
For a grace to the children of Earth. 



164 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

Sons of Athens, heavy-laden with the holy weight of years, 
Be your hearts as young men's lightened of their loathlier 

load of fears; 1450 

For the wave is sunk whose thunder shoreward shook the 

shuddering lands, 
And unbreached of warring waters Athens like a sea-rock 

stands. 

CHORUS 

Well thy word has cheered us, well thy face and glittering 

eyes, that spake 
Ere thy tongue spake words of comfort: yet no pause 

behoves it make 
Till the whole good hap find utterance that the Gods have 

given at length. 1455 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

All is this, that yet the city stands unforced by stranger 
strength. 

CHORUS 

Sweeter sound might no mouth utter in man's ear than this 
thy word. 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

Feed thy soul then full of sweetness till some bitterer note 
be heard. 



CHORUS 

None, if this ring sure, can mar the music fallen from 
heaven as rain. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 165 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

If no fire of sun or star untimely sear the tender grain. 1460 

CHORUS 

Fresh the dewfall of thy tidings on our hopes reflowering 
lies. 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

Till a joyless shower and fruitless blight them, raining from 
thine eyes. 

CHORUS 

Bitter springs have barren issues; these bedew grief's arid 
sands. 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

Such thank-offering ask such altars as expect thy suppliant 
hands. 

CHORUS 

Tears for triumph, wail for welfare, what strange godhead's 
shrine requires? 1465 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

Death's or victory's be it, a funeral torch feeds all its festal 
fires. 

CHORUS 

Like a star should burn the beacon flaming from our city's 
head. 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

Like a balefire should the flame go up that says the king is 
dead. 



166 Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

CHORUS 

Out of heaven, a wild-haired meteor, shoots this new sign, 
scattering fear. 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

Yea, the word has wings of fire that hovered, loth to burn 
thine ear. 1470 

CHORUS 

From thy lips it leapt forth loosened on a shrill and 
shadowy wing. 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

Long they faltered, fain to hide it deep as death that hides 
the king. 

CHORUS 

Dead with him blind hope lies blasted by the lightning of 
one sword. 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

On thy tongue truth wars with error; no man's edge hath 
touched thy lord. 

CHORUS 

False was thine then, jangling menace like a war-steed's 
brow-bound bell? 1475 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

False it rang not joy nor sorrow; but by no man's hand he 
fell. 

CHORUS 

Vainly then good news and evil through so faint a trumpet 
spake. 



Swinburne 7 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 167 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

All too long thy soul yet labours, as who sleeping fain would 

wake, 
Waking, fain would fall on sleep again; the woe thou know- 

est not yet, 
When thou knowest, shall make thy memory thirst and 

hunger to forget. 1480 

CHORUS 

Long my heart has hearkened, hanging on thy clamorous 

ominous cry, 
Fain yet fearful of the knowledge whence it looks to live or 

die; 
Now to take the perfect presage of thy dark and sidelong 

flight 
Comes a surer soothsayer sorrowing, sable-stoled as birds 

of night. 

PRAXITHEA 

Man, what thy mother bare thee born to say 1485 

Speak; for no word yet wavering on thy lip 

Can wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear. 

ATHENIAN HERALD 

I have no will to weave too fine or far, 

O queen, the weft of sweet with bitter speech, 

Bright words with darkling; but the brief truth shown 1490 

Shall plead my pardon for a lingering tongue, 

Loth yet to strike hope through the heart and slay. 

The sun's light still was lordly housed in heaven 

When the twain fronts of war encountering smote 

First fire out of the battle; but not long 1495 

Had the fresh wave of windy fight begun 



168 Swinburne' s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Heaving, and all the surge of swords to sway, 

When timeless night laid hold of heaven, and took 

With its great gorge the noon as in a gulf, 

Strangled; and thicker than the shrill-winged shafts 

Flew the fleet lightnings, held in chase through heavenl500 

By headlong heat of thunders on their trail 

Loosed as on quest of quarry; that our host 

Smit with sick presage of some wrathful God 

Quailed, but the foe as from one iron throat 1505 

With one great sheer sole thousand-throated cry 

Shook earth, heart-staggered from their shout, and clove 

The eyeless hollow of heaven; and breached therewith 

As with an onset of strength-shattering sound 

The rent vault of the roaring noon of night 1510 

From her throned seat of usurpation rang 

Reverberate answer; such response there pealed 

As though the tide's charge of a storming sea 

Had burst the sky's wall, and made broad a breach 

In the ambient girth and bastion flanked with stars 1515 

Guarding the fortress of the Gods, and all 

Crashed now together on ruin; and through that cry 

And higher above it ceasing one man's note 

Tore its way like a trumpet: Charge, make end, 

Charge, halt not, strike,rend up their strength by the roots, 1520 

Strike, break them, make your birthright's promise sure, 

Show your hearts hardier than the fenced land breeds 

And souls breathed in you from no spirit of earth, 

Sons of the sea's waves; and all ears that heard 

Rang with that fiery cry, that the fine air 1525 

Thereat was fired, and kindling filled the plain 

Full of that fierce and trumpet-quenching breath 

That spake the clarions silent; no glad song 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 169 

For folk to hear that wist how dire a God 

Begat this peril to them, what strong race 1530 

Fathered the sea-born tongue that sang them death, 

Threatening; so raged through the red foam of fight 

Poseidon's son Eumolpus; and the war 

Quailed round him coming, and our side bore back, 

As a stream thwarted by the wind and sea 1535 

That meet it midway mouth to mouth, and beat 

The flood back of its issue; but the king 

Shouted against them, crying, O Father-God, 

Source of the God my father, from thine hand 

Send me what end seems good now in thy sight, 1540 

But death from mine to this man; and the word 

Quick on his lips yet like a blast of fire 

Blew them together; and round its lord that met 

Paused all the reeling battle; two main waves 

Meeting, one hurled sheer from the sea-wall back 1545 

That shocks it sideways, one right in from sea 

Charging, that full in face takes at one blow 

That whole recoil and ruin, with less fear 

Startle men's eyes late shipwrecked; for a breath, 

Crest fronting crest hung, wave to wave rose poised, 1550 

Then clashed, breaker to breaker; cloud with cloud 

In heaven, chariot with chariot closed on earth, 

One fourfold flash and thunder; yet a breath. 

And with the king's spear through his red heart's root 

Driven, like a rock split from its hill-side, fell 1555 

Hurled under his own horsehoofs dead on earth 

The sea-beast that made war on earth from sea, 

Dumb, with no shrill note left of storming song, 

Eumolpus; and his whole host with one stroke 

Spear-stricken through its dense deep iron heart 1560 



170 Swinburne's Atalanla in Calydon and Erechlkeus 

Fell hurtling from us, and in fierce recoil 

Drew seaward as with one wide wail of waves, 

Resorbed with reluctation; such a groan 

Rose from the fluctuant refluence of its ranks, 

Sucked sullen back and strengthless; but scarce yet 1565 

The steed had sprung and wheels had bruised their lord 

Fallen, when from highest height of the sundering heaven 

The Father for his brother's son's sake slain 

Sent a sheer shaft of lightning writhen and smote 

Right on his son's son's forehead, that unhelmed 1570 

Shone like the star that shines down storm, and gave 

Light to men's eyes that saw thy lord their king 

Stand and take breath from battle; then too soon 

Saw sink down as a sunset in sea-mist 

The high bright head that here in van of the earth 1575 

Rose like a headland, and through storm and night 

Took all the sea's wrath on it; and now dead 

They bring thee back by war-forsaken ways 

The strength called once thy husband, the great guard 

That was of all men, stay of all men's lives, 1580 

They bear him slain of no man but a God, 

Godlike; and toward him dead the city's gates 

Fling their arms open mother-like, through him 

Saved; and the whole clear land is purged of war. 

What wilt thou say now of this weal and woe? 1585 

PRAXITHEA 

I praise the Gods for Athens. O sweet Earth, 
Mother, what joy thy soul has of thy son, 
Thy life of my dead lord, mine own soul knows 
That knows thee godlike; and what grief should mine, 
What sorrow should my heart have, who behold 1590 



Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 171 

Thee made so heavenlike happy? This alone 

I only of all these blessed, all thy kind, 

Crave this for blessing to me, that in theirs 

Have but a part thus bitter; give me too 

Death, and the sight of eyes that meet not mine. 1595 

And thee too from no godless heart or tongue 

Reproachful, thee too by thy living name, 

Father divine, merciful God, I call, 

Spring of my life springs, fountain of my stream, 

Pure and poured forth to one great end with thine, 1600 

Sweet head sublime of triumph and these tears, 

Cephisus, if thou seest as gladly shed 

Thy blood in mine as thine own waves are given 

To do this great land good, to give for love 

The same lips drink and comfort the same hearts, 1605 

Do thou then, O my father, white-souled God, 

To thy most pure earth-hallowing heart eterne 

Take what thou gavest to be given for these, 

Take thy child to thee; for her time is full, 

For all she hath borne she hath given, seen all she had 1610 

Flow from her, from her eyes and breasts and hands 

Flow forth to feed this people; but be thou, 

Dear God and gracious to all souls slive, 

Good to thine own seed also; let me sleep, 

Father; my sleepless darkling day is done, 1615 

My day of life like night, but slumberless: 

For all my fresh fair springs, and his that ran 

In one stream's bed with mine, are all run out 

Into the deep of death. The Gods have saved 

Athens; my blood has brought her at their hand, 1620 

And ye sit safe; be glorious and be glad 

As now for all time always, countrymen, 






172 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

And love my dead for ever; but me, me, 

What shall man give for these so good as death? 

CHORUS 

From the cup of my heart I pour through my lips along 

[Str. 1. 
The mingled wine of a joyful and sorrowful song; 1625 
Wine sweeter than honey and bitterer than blood that is 

poured 
From the chalice of gold, from the point of the two-edged 

sword. 
For the city redeemed should joy flow forth as a flood, 
And a dirge make moan for the city polluted with blood. 

1630 
Great praise should the Gods have surely, my country, of 
thee, [Ant. 1. 

Were thy brow but as white as of old for thy sons to see, 
Were thy hands as bloodless, as blameless thy cheek divine; 
But a stain on it stands of the life-blood offered for thine. 
What thanks shall we give that are mixed not and marred 
with dread 1635 

For the price that has ransomed thine own with thine own 
child's head? 
For a taint there cleaves to the people redeemed with 
blood, [Str. 2. 

And a plague to the blood-red hand. 
The rain shall not cleanse it, the dew nor the sacred flood 
That blesses the glad live land. 1640 

In the darkness of earth beneath, in the world without 
sun, [Ant. 2. 

The shadows of past things reign; 
And a cry goes up from the ghost of an ill deed done, 
And a curse for a virgin slain. 



Swinburne 1 s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 173 

ATHENA 

Hear, men that mourn, and woman without mate, 1645 

Hearken; ye sick of soul with fear, and thou 

Dumb-stricken for thy children; hear ye too, 

Earth, and the glory of heaven, and winds of the air, 

And the most holy heart of the deep sea, 

Late wroth, now full of quiet; hear thou, sun, 1650 

Rolled round with the upper fire of rolling heaven 

And all the stars returning; hills and streams, 

Springs and fresh fountains, day that seest these deeds, 

Night that shalt hide not; and thou child of mine, 

Child of a maiden, by a maid redeemed, 1655 

Blood-guiltless, though bought back with innocent blood, 

City mine own; I Pallas bring thee word, 

I virgin daughter of the most high God 

Give all you charge and lay command on all 

The word I bring be wasted not; for this 1660 

The Gods have stablished and his soul hath sworn, 

That time nor earth nor changing sons of man 

Nor waves of generations, nor the winds 

Of ages risen and fallen that steer their tides 

Through light and dark of birth and lovelier death 1665 

From storm toward haven inviolable, shall see 

So great a light alive beneath the sun 

As the awless eye of Athens; all fame else 

Shall be to her fame as a shadow in sleep 

To this wide noon at waking; men most praised 1670 

In lands most happy for their children found 

Shall hold as highest of honours given of God 

To be but likened to the least of thine, 

Thy least of all, my city; thine shall be 

The crown of all songs sung, of all deeds done 1675 






174 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Thine the full flower for all time; in thine hand 

Shall time be like a sceptre, and thine head 

Wear worship for a garland; nor one leaf 

Shall change or winter cast out of thy crown 

Till all flowers wither in the world; thine eyes 1680 

Shall first in man's flash lightning liberty, 

Thy tongue shall first say freedom; thy first hand 

Shall loose the thunder terror as a hound 

To hunt from sunset to the springs of the sun 

Kings that rose up out of the populous east 1685 

To make their quarry of thee, and shall strew 

With multitudinous limbs of myriad herds 

The foodless pastures of the sea, and make 

With wrecks immeasurable and unsummed defeat 

One ruin of all their many-folded flocks 1690 

111 shepherded from Asia; by thy side 

Shall fight thy son the north wind, and the sea 

That was thine enemy shall be sworn thy friend 

And hand be struck in hand of his and thine 

To hold faith fast for aye; with thee, though each 1695 

Make war on other, wind and sea shall keep 

Peace, and take truce as brethern for thy sake 

Leagued with one spirit and single-hearted strength 

To break thy foes in pieces, who shall meet 

The wind's whole soul and might of the main sea 1700 

Full in their face of battle, and become 

A laughter to thee; like a shower of leaves 

Shall their long galleys rank by staggering rank 

Be dashed adrift on ruin, and in thy sight 

The sea deride them, and that lord of the air 1705 

Who took by violent hand thy child to wife 

With his loud lips bemock them, by his breath 






Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 175 

Swept out of sight of being; so great a grace 

Shall this day give thee, that makes one in heart 

With mine the deep sea's godhead, and his son 1710 

With him that was thine helmsman, king with king, 

Dead man with dead; only such names as these 

Shalt thou call royal, take none else or less 

To hold of men in honour; but with me 

Shall these be worshipped as one God, and mix 1715 

With mine the might of their mysterious names 

In one same shrine served singly, thence to keep 

Perpetual guard on Athens; time and change, 

Masters and lords of all men, shall be made 

To thee that knowest no master and no lord 1720 

Servants; the days that lighten heaven and nights 

That darken shall be ministers of thine 

To attend upon thy glory, the great years 

As light-engraven letters of thy name 

Writ by the sun's hand on the front of the earth 1725 

For world-beholden witness; such a gift 

For one fair chaplet of three lives enwreathed 

To hang for ever from thy storied shrine, 

And this thy steersman fallen with tiller in hand 

To stand for ever at thy ship's helm seen, 1730 

Shall he that bade their threefold flower be shorn 

And laid him low that planted, give thee back 

In sign of sweet land reconciled with sea 

And heavenlike earth with heaven; such promise-pledge 

I daughter without mother born of God 1735 

To the most woful mother born of man 

Plight for continual comfort. Hail, and live 

Beyond all human hap of mortal doom 

Happy; for so my sire hath sworn and I. 






176 Swinburne'' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

PRAXITHEA 

O queen Athena, from a heart made whole 1740 

Take as thou givest us blessing; never tear 

Shall stain for shame nor groan untune the song 

That as a bird shall spread and fold its wings 

Here in thy praise for ever, and fulfil 

The whole world's crowning city crowned with thee 1745 

As the sun's eye fulfils and crowns with sight 

The circling crown of heaven. There is no grief 

Great as the joy to be made one in will 

With him that is the heart and rule of life 

And thee, God born of God; thy name is ours, 1750 

And thy large grace more great than our desire. 

CHORUS 

From the depth of the springs of my spirit a fountain is 
poured of thanksgiving, 
My country, my mother, for thee, 
That thy dead for their death shall have life in thy sight 
and a name everliving 
At heart of thy people to be. 1755 

In the darkness of change on the waters of time they shall 

turn from afar 
To the beam of this dawn for a beacon, the light of these 

pyres for a star. 
They shall see thee who love and take comfort, who hate 
thee shall see and take warning, 
Our mother that makest us free; 
And the sons of thine earth shall have help of the waves 
that made war on their morning, 1760 

And friendship and fame of the sea. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon 
and Erechtheus 



NOTES 



ATALANTA IN CALYDON 

The Play 

The Atalanta is a romantic tragedy based on the plot of 
a lost play of Euripides, "The Meleager," put together in 
Aeschylean, rather than Euripidean form, with chorus 
motivation somewhat resembling that of the Agamemnon, 
and with chorus and rhesis themes that accept the faith of 
Aeschylus but present it in the Euripidean manner. It is 
long, moves rapidly and unerringly; is full of the atmos- 
phere of the epic, to which it owes a great deal. It pro- 
gresses with an air of certainty that suggests the inevitable 
working out of the laws of destiny. The hunters have 
gathered to destroy a divine monster that has been ravag- 
ing the land for a long time. No sudden call has gathered 
them; they have had time to deliberate on the seriousness 
of the situation which the ill will of the daughter of Zeus 
and Leto has brought about. And this situation is just as 
momentous as that in which the son of Zeus and Leto 
fired his arrows at the camp of the Danaans because they 
had dishonored his priest. We have the epic catalogue, 
the pictures, the real Homeric combat with its naive and 
almost ludicrous incidents, and the death lament unsur- 
passed by anything of the kind in literature. Although 
the play owes much to many writers, it is more character- 
istic of Swinburne than much of the work of his later years. 

The Prologue 

The prologue of the Atalanta in Calydon is a mono- 
logue in the form of a prayer, piled so high with the timber 
of rhetoric that the idea of supplication is almost obliter- 
ated, smothered completely in the gorgeous 'raiment of 



2 Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

words/ It is in characteristic Euripidean form, although 
this form Aeschylus has made use of; but in content it is 
neither Euripidean, with its interminable genealogies, nor 
Aeschylean with its brief, strongly written prelude, as in 
the Agamemnon. But it is structurally interesting and in 
itself unique. 

The speaker is the chief huntsman, who speaks and 
disappears, not to return. In the Agamemnon we have 
an instance of the same thing; the watchman explains his 
business; he is waiting for the beacon. When it appears 
he gives the alarm, dances a prelude to his joy, expresses 
a hope of holding again in his own his master's hand, 
drops a word or two of ill-omen and then goes his way. 
In Euripides the character who speaks the prologue and 
disappears is generally a god who gives the history of the 
case and goes out, leaving nothing new to be expected. 
In the Hippolytus it is Cypris; in the Ion, Hermes; in the 
Alcestis, Apollo; and in the Daughters of Troy, Poseidon. 

The prayer of the chief huntsman falls into three 
divisions: first he greets Artemis, the diva triformis, and 
after taking up eight lines to characterize her, he makes 
known his wants; — "Hear thou and help, and lift no vio- 
lent hands," and closes with a Homeric commonplace; 
the outcome lies on the knees of the gods. This is a little 
ominous, as we know that the gods give no unmixed bless- 
ings to mortals. Next he greets the fair-faced sun, killer 
(Apollo) of stars; and last, the virgin Artemis. He prays 
for good speed for his hounds and for each man good luck, 
and he prays to the divinities potent to give him luck, with 
a reverence and an intensity that fully satisfy all Aeschy- 
lean demands. This hunt motif with its reference to the 
hand of the goddess that is mortal to all things fleet that 
roar and range, and to Apollo, who slays the stars, is 



Swinburne's A talanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 3 

echoed in the first line of the parodos: When the hounds 
of spring are on winter's traces," etc. 

Instead of the Euripidean genealogy we get a multipli- 
cation of attributes. The speaker prays the fair-faced 
sun, killer of stars, to rise up, shine, stretch thine hand 
out, touch heaven with thy bow, burn, break the dark, 
shoot it through with arrows; let thy hair lighten as flame, 
let thine eyes fill the world, let thy lips kindle with swift 
beams, let earth laugh, let the sea and winds and foun- 
tains and each horn of Achelous, and green Euenus laugh; 
for in fair time thou comest. 

With Artemis he is just as generous. He makes a very 
clever transition from the goddess to Atalanta, which 
naturally suggests the chorus of maidens bringing fresh 
locks of hair, clean offerings, chaste hymns. Then with a 
very noticeable drop in intensity, characteristic of Greek, 
he excuses himself, saying: 

me the time 
Divides from these things; whom do thou not less 
Help and give honor, and to mine hounds good speed, 
And edge to spears and luck to each man's hand. 

Separated from its erudition it does fulfill the require- 
ments of a prologue; that is, 'it connects the action of the 
drama (the hunt, the slaying of the boar, and consequent 
events) with previous events which explain the situation 
of the dramatis personae at the time when the play begins.' 
(The land devastated and folk depressed because of the 
ravages of the boar.) 

It should be noticed that the speaker addressed Arte- 
mis in the character of the diva triformis, then Apollo, 
and last, Apollo's sister Artemis, this time by name. In 



4 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechlheus 

a similar manner, Aeschylus, in the Sep tern, 130 makes the 
chorus greet Pallas as 

Aioyevks <pi\6p.axov Kp&ros, 
AuaiiroXis yevov, IlaXXds 

and after addressing other gods and goddesses, returns 
to her and addresses her with another characterization, 
164 

ah re', fiiucaip' &i>ao~o~' "Oyica, irpb 7r6Xe«s 
kicrairvKov (80s emppvov 

In addition it might be noted that the watchman in the 
Agamemnon and the chief huntsman in the Atalanta have 
much in common, in spite of the great difference in their 
language. They are both awaiting the events of the day. 
Both speak in astronomical terms; both emphasize the 
idea of luck, fortune, tvxv. But the difference in style is 
very great. The watchman's speech is rough; almost 
ridiculously homely. We have repetitions and antithesis, 
and dark hints and homely metaphors from watchdogs, 
drugs, dicing, oxen; (See Sidgwick, Ag. 17, note.) he speaks 
a word of hope with an air of misgiving. The mood is 
low-pitched and in striking contrast with the awful tragedy 
that impends. Swinburne's tone is in the stretches of 
trembling heaven so high that we are driven to marvel 
at what shriek must follow to maintain consistency in the 
development of the drama. 



THE CHORUSES OF THE ATALANTA 

Swinburne manipulates his chorus in the Aeschylean 
rather than in the Sophoclean or Euripidean manner; that 
is, he emphasizes its lyrical importance and its independ- 
enceof "the dialogue. In no instance does it allude to the 
coming episode or the entrance of a character, as is fre- 
quently the case in Sophocles and Euripides. It lifts its 
song to a power higher than that appearing in the action 
of the play, and is therefore in its lyrical aspect purely 
symbolical. But in addition to this lyrical function it 
often serves as a character in the dialogue, and in such 
cases its attitude is that of an actor and not at all pitched 
to its lyrical mood. 

Swinburne, like Aeschylus, evidently wished to keep 
the stage free of actors during the song of the chorus. This 
he has indicated in his text in all but one instance, which 
will be commented on in its proper place. 

The speaker of the prologue introduces the chorus and 
immediately excuses himself with the words: 

but me the time 
Divides from these things; 

Althaea and the chorus take up the first episode, and as 
the first stasimon is about to begin she excuses herself 
just as the speaker in the prologue had done: 

And now before these gather to the hunt, 
I will go arm my son and bring him forth, 
Lest love or some man's anger work him harm. 

For just such a reason Atossa leaves the stage in Aes. 

Per., 849, where the purpose is voiced in three lines at the 

very end of the speech. 

(But I will go, and taking from my halls 
Fine raiment will essay to meet my son, 
And not betray our dear one though ill-starred.) 






6 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtkeus 

In the second episode Althaea, Meleager, Oeneus, and 
the chorus occupy the stage where they seem to remain 
through the singing of the second stasimon, which takes up 
and develops the love theme that was the real motive of 
Althaea's sermon on the law. Swinburne may have been 
unable to find a motive for the removal of the actors, but 
it is probable that he wished Meleager to hear the lyric 
treatment of the love theme, while Althaea remained to 
observe its effect on her son. 

At the close of the third episode Oeneus dismisses the 
throng and sends the hunters on their way: 

but ye, depart with her 
In peace and reverence, each with blameless eye 
Following his fate; exalt your hands and hearts, 
Strike, cease not, arrow on arrow and wound on wound, 
And go with gods and with the gods return. 

At the beginning of the fourth episode Althaea enters 
with the words: 

I heard within the house the cry of news 
And came forth — 

She hears the herald's account of the slaying of the boar 
and at its conclusion leaves to offer sacrifice to the pros- 
perous gods. That this sacrifice was not offered on the 
stage is shown by the words of the chorus when it answers 
the query of the messenger as to the whereabouts of the 
queen with 

Lo, she comes forth as from thank-offering made. 

At the close of this episode, after she has learned of the 
death of her brothers, she greets the fates who have come 
to visit her a second time: 

Lo ye, who stand and weave between the doors, 

There; and blood drips from hand and thread, and stains 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 7 

Threshold and raiment and me passing in 
Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death. 

Her motive for leaving was of course the burning of the 
brand. 

At the close of the lament of the chorus she cries: 

Ho, ye that wail, and ye that sing, make way 
Till I be come among you. 

At the conclusion of her last speech the chorus, in two 
divisions, sings of her as if she were off the stage, but at 
the close of the last stanza the second messenger enters 
saying : 

Queen, and you maidens, there is come on us 
A thing more deadly than the face of death; 
Meleager the good lord is as one slain. 

The fact that Meleager twice addresses his mother, 
once during the kommos and once during his last speech, 
shows that she remained through the death scene although 
she had resolved, at the close of the last episode, never to 
speak again. 

Considered in their structural aspect the choruses of 
the Atalanta display great variety. There is the Euripi- 
dean lightness of touch, the serenity and repose of 
Sophocles, and the pulsing flow of Aeschylus, swelling at 
times to a torrent. In every instance we find a mood 
created to suit the dramatic situation that it introduces; 
and in every instance the nexus is close, — as close and 
exact as the best examples in Greek tragedy. Althaea's 
long rhesis on her son suggests the choric song of creation ; 
--Meleager dominates the next scene, upon which follows 
the strain of love the destroyer; Atalanta appears and 
after her comes the chorus of infatuation; the boar is 






8 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

slain and naturally enough we listen to the sylvan flutes 
breathing freedom from care. Theme follows theme with- 
out a waver in their directness. 

The preponderance of aesthetic effect is Aeschylean, 
but the ethical is quite often Euripidean. The cynical, 
sophisticated pessimism of Althaea is not felt in the paro- 
dos nor does it appear in the first episode, where the chorus 
makes her acquaintance; but its chords begin to color the 
harmony of the creation chorus, they ring loud in the love 
chorus and reach a wild crescendo and climax in the 
chorus of infatuation. There is little of the Aeschylean 
theme that the doer must suffer, that evil begets offspring 
of its kind, and that the houses of the pious are immune 
from the thunder. The ritual of the Atalanta makes us 
shudder at the sinister resentment of the gods against 
their puppet, man. 

The Parodos 

The parodos is a beautiful invocation to Artemis, 
written in very rapid anapests, in definite stanza form. 
The chorus of young maidens is announced by the speaker 
of the prologue, who turns over to them the task of 
sacrificing to Artemis. They come to offer to the daughter 
of Leto chaste hymns and flowers and locks of their hair. 

This chorus is unique; there is nothing just like it in 
literature, ancient or modern. Its dominant note is splen- 
dor and speed, and it lives up to its theme as few others do. 
Not once is it forgotten until we lose sight of 

"the feet that scare 
The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies." 

— It is un-Aeschylean in both movement and mood. 
Although its burden is Artemis, it might well come, 
Alovvgov Karkyovaai, inspired by the strange breath of the 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 9 

Bacchae. We find in the choruses of that play the same 
swiftness, joined with the same breathless seriousness. 
The flashes of beauty and the note of delight in the days of 
youth, symbolized in pictures from many myths, leave the 
final impression of sadness characteristic of the Greek 
contemplation of such scenes. 

In it are many individual lines suggested by the Greek, 
many images and allusions; but these seem to pour from 
the author's mind in a molten stream, to be moulded into 
a form as original as anything in our language. 

The classical reminiscences are from many sources. 
In "The mother of months" there is a suggestion of 

TTorvia Arj/irjTrjp, wprj(p6pe, ayXaSScope, 

Spring with its lisp of leaves and ripple of rain is an echo of 

nam seu mobilibus veris inhorruit 
Adventus foliis — Hor. O. 1, 23, 5 

The story of the brown bright nightingale is a common- 
place in classical poetry. Cf . Ovid, Met. 6, 424 ff. ; Homer, 
Od. 19, 518 ff. 

Horace, O. 4, 12, 5 
Nidum ponit, Ityn flebiliter gemens, 
infelix avis it Cecropiae domus 
aeternum opprobrium 

old rts iovda 
clk6pgtos £oas, ^«0, raXalvcus (pptcrlv 
*Itw, *Itw ffrkvova' &n<pida\rj /towts 
&t,8*v 0U>v Aesch. Ag. 1142 ff. 

(As the dusky nightingale sings 
Insatiate of lament, alas, from her soul's dark springs 
Moaning of Itys, Itys, as down through her life she goes 
Where sorrow for blossom blows.) 



10 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtkeus 

tov ep.bv nai crbu iroXvbaKpvv "\tvv 

eXthi^ofikvrj biepols p-ekeaiv 

yepvos &vdijs Aristoph. Av. 212 ff. 

The characterization of Artemis reads like a crystaliza- 
tion from several sources. 

tAs re nuptfiopovs 

'AprepiSos 0.17X05, £w ais Awa' 6pea biaaoti Soph. O. R.206 

(And the flashing fires of Artemis wherewith she glances 
through the Lycian hills.) 

Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers, 

Maiden most perfect, lady of light, 
With a noise of winds and many rivers, 

With a clamor of waters and with might. 

As goddess of the chase, we find her characterized, 

77 kot' opt] oKibevra. kox oKpias i\vep.oeaaa.<i 
aypjf repirovp.evrj xayxpv(rea to£o rtraivei 
■Kkp-TTOvaa arovbevra fie\r] H. 27, 4 

Tpop'tti be Kaprjva 
inprjX&v bpeuv, Laxei 5' tire baaKias J5Xtj 
beivbv airb Kkayyrjs B-qpwv, <ppi<r<rei he re yala. H. 27, 73 

As lady of light she brandishes two torches, 

biirbpovs avexovaa Xap.7ro5os, Aristoph. Ran. 1362 
' KprtpLiv ap<plirvpov Trach. 214. See Jebb, O. T. 207-8 

She is also called creXatr^opos, <pu)<j<p6pos, 

Bind on thy sandals, O thou most fleet, 
Over the splendor and speed of thy feet" 

is a Homeric reminiscence. Cf. II. 2, 44 

Kotrtri 8' vvrb XiTrapoTci ebfaaro koXo TreotXa 









Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 11 

88-95 is an allusion to the Song of Songs, 2, 10-13 

For the winter rains and ruins are over, 

And all the seasons of snows and sins; 
The days dividing lover and lover, 

The light that loses, the night that wins; 
And time remembered is grief forgotten, 
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, 

And in green underwood and cover 

Blossom by blossom the spring begins. 

Cf. My beloved spake and said unto me, 

Rise up my love, my fair one and come away. 

For lo, the winter is past, 

The rain is over and gone; 

The flowers appear on the earth, 

The time of the singing of birds is come, 

And the voice of the turtle is heard in the land ; 

The fig tree ripeneth her green figs, 

And the vines are in blossom, 

They give forth their fragrance. 

Arise my love, my fair one and come away. 

"Ripe grasses trammel a traveling foot" 
as in Horace, Ep. 2, 22 modo in tenaci gramine 

"The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes" etc. 

is the Pindaric (poLvuiavdefjiov fjpos aKfiq. 

or better, ipoivLnoeap&v ottot olxSevros 'Slpav OaXanov 

evoSfiov kraygai.v tap <pvra vexrapta 

And the oat is heard above the lyre 
&xei t' dfupai fieKeuv ai>v atoXcus, 
&X« r « Se/jeXtw k\iKajj,irvKa xopoi. 

This whole fragment of Pindar (75) is interesting in 
connection with this ode; it has left its color in more than 
one place. 



12 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

And Pan by noon and Bacchus by night, 
Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid 
Follows with dancing and fills with delight 
The Maenad and the Bassarid. 

This passage finds an echo in many places, cf. 

ir&Ttp Qkoive, "Slaiuabicv £evKTTipie Aes. fr. 350 
vbn<pais ovpelais ovp.irai$uv Arist. Av. 1098 

vvfi<pa opeaijSdrp irov ir\rjdeia' Soph. O. R. 1100 
k£a\{j£as SLxerai vkfipov SIktjv Aesch. Eurn. Ill 
oip&ira fiaKxov duiov, 
M.aiv&8oiv dfiocrroXov Soph. O. T. 211 

In the next there is a fine Horatian reminiscence. 

And soft as lips that laugh and hide, 
The laughing leaves of the trees divide 

And screen from seeing and leave in sight 
The god pursuing, the maiden hid. 

Nunc et campus et areae 
lenesque sub noctem susurri 

Composita repetantur hora 
nunc et latentis proditor intimo 

Gratus puellae risus ab angulo Hor. O. 1, 9, 18 

The following picture is about the finest in the whole 
collection. 

The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair 

Over her eyebrows, hiding her eyes; 

The wild vine slipping down leaves bare 

Her bright breast shortening into sighs 

For a similar picture of the runner weakening and finally 
falling from weariness see Eurip. Bac. 135 ff. 

trance of rapture when, reeling aside, 
From the Bacchanal rout o'er the mountains flying 
One sinks to the earth, and the fawn's flecked hide 
Covers him lying. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 13 

The Euripidean pictures fit more nearly the life and 
action of the Swinburnian; cf. Ion, 716 f. for Bacchus 
sporting with the nymphs: 

(Where Bacchus uptossing the pines flame-glaring, 
Leaps mid his Bacchants through darkness that roam.) 

also Bacchae, 306 ff. 

Yet shalt thou see him even on Delphi's crags 
With pine brands leaping o'er the cloven crest, 
Tossing on high and waving Bacchus' bough. 

See also Ion, 492 ff.; Phoen. 226 ff. 

One sees in this ode the radiancy and rush of an Euripi- 
dean chorus, and the characteristic Euripidean pictures, 
quite suggestive but not too definite, and at times some- 
what diffuse. The purpose of the ode, however, is Aeschy- 
lean. It is in reality a hymn, an appeal to the great 
goddess who governs the wilds, who has sent the boar and 
who is going to destroy him now at the hands of Meleager. 
This is made clear at the close of the prologue, when the 
chorus is announced as coming with "clean offering, chaste 
hymns." And this hymn is perfectly suited to the powers 
that inspired it. It follows very naturally the prayer of 
the chief huntsman, and it develops the same theme, 
which is exalted by the chorus to a higher plane. 

First Episode 

The first episode is low-pitched in tone. After the 
eloquence of the prologue and the radiancy of the parodos, 
comes the wise, sombre, and pessimistic Althaea. She 
begins at once to undermine the reverence of the chorus 
and in the stasimon that follows, her influence is distinctly 
felt., The stichomythia between Althaea and the chorus 



14 Swinburne *s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

is wonderfully well constructed. Put all the lines of the 
chorus in a paragraph, and we get one point of view; 
Althaea's speeches treated in the same way, give us the 
other. 

Chorus: 1 Yet one doth well, being patient of the gods. 

2 But when time spreads, find out some herb for it. 

3 What ails thee to be jealous of their ways? . 

4 They have their will; much talking mends it not. 

5 Have they not given life and the end of life? 

Althaea: 1 Yea, lest they smite us with some four-foot plague. 

2 And with their healing herbs infect our blood. 

3 What if they give us poisonous drinks for wine? 

4 And gall for milk, and cursing for a prayer? 

5 Lo, where they heal, they help not. 

She then introduces the love theme, love the destroyer, 
which she develops in the long rhesis, after which she 
introduces and develops, in the same speech, the episode 
of the three weaving women, the Fate motif of the play. 
This is introduced by a dream and dismissed by another, 
after which she comments on the gods and their ways, 
and the wisdom of her mother, closing by announcing 
that she must go to arm her son. 

First Stasimon 

creation of man and the vanity of life 

After Althaea has indulged in a rather long and senti- 
mental rhesis in quite Euripidean manner on the infancy 
of her son, the chorus sings its song of creation. Classical 
and Biblical thought are blended in one quivering mass. 
This is one of the finest things that Swinburne ever did. 
The movement is unerring and the compression remark- 
able. Noteworthy is the list of high gods and the material 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 15 

with which they worked. The chorus begins now to show 
the influence of Althaea, who provoked it by her theme of 
mother-love in the last speech of the first episode. Its 
outlook on life is full of Euripidean bitterness and pessi- 
mism. Time brings us but sorrow, every hour has its 
grief; for all of us pleasure is mixed with pain; we are 
impotent to control our life, the best we can do is to choose 
the lesser evil. Once dead, we are gone, (fr. 507) the bond 
with the living is broken (fr. 532), what is under earth is 
really nothing (Iph. Aul. 1251, fr. 633). 

In their very act of creating, the gods are sinister in 
their attitude towards man. He sows but shall not reap, 
he weaves to be clothed in derision, and he endures for a 
span in travail and sorrow; Surely to live is to suffer 
(Eur. fr. 966). The last quatrain is steeped in all the 
pessimism of the ages. For the myth see Plato. Prot. XI. 

Second Episode 

The second episode presents Althaea and her son. He 
comes out with her, armed for the hunt. While waiting 
for the throng that is gathering they regard and comment 
on the prominent characters to be seen from their outlook. 
The scene is based on the famous passage in the Iliad, 3, 
166-244. Althaea asks him to name the men whom he 
recognizes. He replies that on account of the distance 
he can recognize but few. But he does mention Peleus, 
the sons of Leda, Telamon, Ancaeus, and her own brothers, 
Toxeus and the violent-souled Plexippus. The descrip- 
tions of most of these are taken from the Meleager of 
Euripides. In technique the passage is very similar to 
that of the Iliad. Priam calls Helen to look at her former 
husband. He then asks her the name of an Achaean 



16 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

warrior. As she replies to his questions the old man be- 
comes pensive and reminiscent. In the same manner 
Althaea comments on the characters mentioned by Melea- 
ger. A passage of stichomythia leads to Althaea's great 
sermon on the law, which has been discussed elsewhere. 
Her son reminds her that he is not a child, but has been a 
leader in the great expedition for the fleece. Oeneus inter- 
rupts, to be silenced by his wife, who then indulges in 
tender recollections of her son's infancy. Meleager, driven 
to it by his mother, makes the one vain speech of his life. 
Here follows the great Eros Tyrannus chorus. 

Second Stasimon 
eros tyrannus 

The Eros Tyrannus chorus holds the center of the play. 
The lyric parts that precede it are the parodos and the 
stasimon on the creation and stultification of man, who is 
so temperamentally endowed as to become an easy victim 
of the delusion that is now to fall upon him. From the 
episodes that follow these two choruses we have learned 
something of the character of Althaea and her attitude 
towards her son and the woman for whom he is to go to his 
ruin. She has in a very insistent manner enforced the idea 
that for wise men as for fools, love is one thing, an evil 
thing; and that her son's only chance of happiness lies in 
submitting his soul to fate, and setting his eyes and heart 
on high-born hopes and abstinence divine. To all of which 
her son plays slight heed, ov yap evnidris ; and that too in 
face of the fact that what she is insisting upon has been 
the practice of hunters from time immemorial and is still 
to be observed in semi-savage tribes today. (See Frazer, 
The Golden Bough.) 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 17 

The song is a fitting prelude for the entrance of the 
woman herself; while the contrast between the baneful 
and resistless might of Persuasion, ^ t6l\cliv<i Jleidco, and 
the Beautiful Atalanta with her maidenly reserve and 
goddess-like imperturbability is very strong. 

The chorus is very long, — longer than the great Aeschy- 
lean chorus in the Agamemnon, which it follows rather 
closely in its progressive piling up of horrors, from which 
there is but one escape. But in his characterization of 
Love Swinburne was not content with Aeschylean mater- 
ial. He foraged the whole field of Greek literature and 
added a reminiscence of Lucretius besides. His Eclectic 
method owes much to Aeschylus, particularly in the 
sombre progressive cumulation of the mood, as well as in 
the anapestic beginning; it owes much to Euripides both 
in actual material and the disposition of it. Euripides, 
Hippol. 527 ff. uses half of his chorus in the characteriza- 
tion of Love and the remainder in citing concrete examples 
from the myths to show its application. Swinburne has 
closed his chorus in just this manner, which has the effect 
of a slight anticlimax. The myth, found in Odyssey 11, 
235 ff., is not so well chosen to exemplify the horror of such 
things as the two employed by Euripides, particularly the 
story of Iole, whose beauty had aroused the passion of 
Heracles and led him to destroy her father's city. For 
similar use of myth, showing ill-fated maidens, see Euri- 
pides Helen, 375 ff. The great Love chorus in the Anti- 
gone has also contributed its share to both the thought 
and the rhythm. 

Throughout the entire poem Swinburne maintains the 
direct address, just as Sophocles has done, but his method 
of composition is more diffuse than that of Euripides at 
his worst. Throughout the interminable series of horrors 
we find few that give a clear Aeschylean picture. 



18 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheifs 

In the anapestic introduction there is some confusion 
between the winged Eros and the Aphrodite of the passion 
and gratification of love; but after this, the whole address 
is directed to the mother. Nowhere is Swinburne's power 
of assimilation and manipulation of material shown to 
better advantage. And here it is interesting to note that 
the first couplet echoes a biblical idea, Song of Songs, 
4, 1-2. 

Behold thou art fair, my love, behold thou art fair; 
Thine eyes are as doves behind thy veil. 

There is a Sapphic intensity in 

Thou art swift and subtle and blind as a flaming fire, 
Before thee the laughter, behind thee the tears of desire. 

ovre 7&p irvpos ovt Harpiov virtp'repov (ie\os olov rb ras 

AtppoSiras 

Eur. Hup. 530. 

The rest of the introductory stanza reads like the descrip- 
tion of a vase-painting. 

The idea of the evil blossom born of sea-foam is old, 
a Greek commonplace met first in Horn. H. 5. For the 
idea of evil, compare Euripides, Hipp. 764 ff., 



avd } 6)i> oi>x oaltov epw— 
t<j)v Seivq. ippkvas 'A<ppo8i 
tcls vboif KarviKaadri. 



Aphrodite resents being called by Hippolytus KaKiar^v 
baiubvuv TT€(pvKkvat (Hipp. 13) and under her Kkvrpois 
ZpwTos the heart of Phaedra bleeds to death. Love is a 
bitter flower from the bud, just as Helen found it, a 
drj^Wvfiov epojTos avdos, and Phaedra's nurse assured her, 
tj8l<ttov, & toll, ravrov aXyewdv 0' a/xa. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 19 

The origin of the evil blossom born of sea-foam and the 
frothing of blood is given in full in Hesiod, Theog. 176-200, 
where reference is also made to Eros. The stanza beginning 

The weft of the world was untorn 

That is woven of the day on the night — 

shows very skillful handling on Swinburne's part. Cf. 
Theog. 176 ff. 

7}X0e 8e vvkt' kira-yoiv /zeyas Ovpavos, ayupi 8k Fatrj 
l/xeipcov <pi\6TrjTos kirkcrxero Kal p.' kravvadrj 
iravTrj k.t.X. 

The Homeric hymn to Aphrodite 2-6 shows that she sub- 
dued the whole world of animal life. 

Kai T* eSapaaaero <pv\a KaTadvTjT&p avdp6)Tro)v 
oiuuovs re SuTrereas Kal drjpla iravra, 
i)likv 6a' iffirtipos 7roXXd rpe<pei i]b' ocra -kovtos* 
Traaiv 8' epya fj.ep.r]\ev kvcrrecpavov KvBepeir]';. 

There is a Lucretian note in the line 

And in air the clamorous birds 

while the next idea springs from the Homeric nkpoirts 
avdpuiroi which Swinburne handles almost jocosely; 

Sweet articulate words 
Sweetly divided apart. 

The remainder of the stanza is Homeric. The next, how- 
ever is clearly after Hesiod. 

For all they said upon earth, 

She is fair, she is white like a dove, 

And the life of the world in her breath 
Breathes, and is born at her birth; 

For they knew thee for mother of love 

And they knew thee not mother of death. 






20 Swinburne's Atalanta i>i Calydon and Erechtheus 

Cf. Theogony 192 ff. 

First she drew near holy Cythera, and from there, 
afterwards, she came to sea-girt Cyprus, and came forth 
an awful and lovely goddess, and grass grew up about her 
beneath her shapely feet. Her gods and men call Aphro- 
dite, and the foam-born goddess and rich-crowned 
Cytherea, because she grew amid the foam, and Cytherea 
because she reached Cythera, and Cyprogenes because 
she was born in billowy Cyprus, and Philommedes because 
she sprang from the members. And with her went Eros 
and comely Desire followed her at her birth at the first 
and as she went into the assembly of the gods. This 
honor she has from the beginning, and this is the portion 
allotted to her among men and undying gods — the whis- 
perings of maidens and smiles and deceits with sweet 
delight and love and graciousness." 

And for Love the fair destroyer see also Hesiod, Theog. 
120 

^5' ''Epos, 8s K&XXcaros tv bdavaTouxi deoiai, 
XucrijueXifc, ttSlvtiov 81 de&v iravTwv 8' 6.vBp6)ir<av 
86.fiva.Tat. iv o-T-qdeaai vbov nal tiri<ppova f3ov\i]v. 

Swinburne's Aphrodite resembles Hesiod's Pandora. 

Hes. works 57 ff. Zeus, indig- What hadst thou to do being born 

nant at the theft of fire, tells Pro- Mother, when winds were at 

metheus of his intended revenge: [ease 

"But I will give men as the price of As a flower of the springtime of 

fire an evil thing in which they all [corn, 

be glad of heart while they em- A flower of the foam of the seas?, 

brace their own destruction." So For bitter thou wast from thy 

woman was made. Golden Aphro- [birth, 

dite shed grace upon her head and Aphrodite, a mother of strife; 

cruel longing and cares that weary For before thee some rest was on 

the limbs. And Athena girded and [earth, 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtkeus 21 



clothed her, and the divine graces 
and queenly Persuasion put neck- 
laces of gold upon her, and the 
rich-haired hours crowned her 
head with spring blossoms. And 
Pallas Athena decked her form 
with all manner of finery. And the 
Guide, the Slayer of Argus, con- 
trived within her lies and crafty 
words and a deceitful nature at the 
will of loud-thundering Zeus, and 
the herald of the gods put speech in 
her. And he called this woman 
Pandora, because all they who 
dwelt on Olympus gave each a 
gift, a plague to men who eat 
bread. 

But when he had finished the 
sheer hopeless snare, the father 
sent glorious Argus-Slayer, the 
swift messenger of the gods, to 
take it to Epimetheus as a gift. . . 
But he took the gift, and after- 
wards, when the evil thing was al- 
ready his, he understood. 

For before this the tribes of men 
lived on earth remote and free 
from ills and hard toil and heavy 
sicknesses which bring the fates 
upon men. . . Now the earth is 
full of evils and the sea is full. 



A little respite from tears, 
A little pleasure of life; 

For life was not then as thou art, 
But as one that waxeth in years 
Sweet-spoken, a fruitful wife; 
Earth had no thorn, and desire 
No sting, neither death any 

[dart; 
What hadst thou to do among 
[these, 
Thou, clothed with a burning 

[fire, 

Thou, sprung from the seed of 

[the seas 

As an ear from a seed of corn, 

As a brand plucked forth of a 

[pyre, 

As a ray shed forth oft he morn, 

[etc. 



See also Theog. 573 ff. 

For the vernal beauty of Aphrodite, 



When winds were at ease, 
As a flower of the spring time of corn, 
As a flower of the foam of the seas, 



22 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthem 

see Cypria 1 ff. 

She clothed herself with garments which the graces and hour* had 
made for her and dyed in the flowers of spring — such flowers as the 
seasons wear — in crocus and hyacinth and flourishing violet and the 
rose's lovely bloom, so sweet and delicious, and heavenly buds, the 
flowers of the narcissus and lily. Tn such perfumed garments is Aphro- 
dite clothed at all seasons. 

For the desolation of cities because of Love the de- 
stroyer see Euripides, Troades, particularly the choruses 
5 11-5 70 and 799-860 also 1060-1120. Quite in Swinburnian 
manner is 1071-80. 

Thine altars are cold; and the blithesome calling 
Of the dancers is hushed; nor at twilight's falling 

To the nightlong vigil of gods cometh walking. 
They are vanished, thy carven images golden, 
And the twelve moon-feasts of the Phrygians holden. 

Dost thou care, O King, I muse, heart-aching, — 
Thou who sittest on high in the far blue heaven 
Enthroned, — that my city to ruin is given 
That the bands of her strength is the fire-blast breaking. 

O my beloved, O husband mine, 
Thou art dead and unburied thou wanderest yonder 
Unwashen, — but me shall the keel through the brine 
Waft, onward sped by its pinions of pine, 
To the horse-land Argos, where that stone wonder 
Of Cyclops' walls cleaves clouds asunder. 
And our babes at the gates in a long, long line 
Cling to their mothers with wail and with weeping that 

[cannot avail — 
"O mother" they moan, "alone, alone; woe's me!" etc. 

See also Hecuba's lament, Tro. 1272 ff. 

In many places throughout Greek literature we hear 

A cry of perishing lands, 

A moan as of people in prison, 

A tumult of infinite griefs; 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 23 



Hecuba's is such a cry: 

The deepest depth of all my miseries; 

I leave my land; my city is aflame; 

OTroy. . . 

Soon of thy glorious name thou wilt be spoiled. 

They fire thee, and they hale us forth the land, 

Thralls. 



and the chorus answers: 

d 5c /xeyaXo7roAis 

HiroXis SXcoXe? oid' It' 6<tti Tpoia." 

Hec. Ilios is blazing, the ramparts of Pergamos crashing 

Down, with the homes of our city, mid flames far-flashing 

Over their ruins, a furnace glow. 
Cho. With its wide- winged blackness the heaven's face covering. 

O'er our spear-stricken land is the smoke-cloud hovering. 

In madness of ruin-rush earthward they reel 

Our halls, neath the fire and the foeman's steel. 
Hec. Hear children, O hearken your mother's crying. 

Cho. To the dead dost thou wail, — can they hear thine entreating? 

Hec. From my land unto mansions of slavery. 

O hapless I ! 

O Priam, O Priam, slain without tomb, 

Without friend, nought, nought dost thou know of thy 

[doom! 
Cho. For the blackness of death hath shrouded the eyes 

Of the righteous, by the hand of the impious slain. 
Hec. The death-flame, the spear in your midst have dominion — 

Cho. Swift falling to earth your memorial shall vanish, — 

Hec. And the dust o'er the welkin wide stretching its pinion, 

Mine eyes from the home of my yearning shall banish. 
Cho. And the name of my land shall be heard not, and wide 

Shall her children be scattered; no more doth abide Troy's 

[woeful pride. 
Hec. Did ye mark, did ye hear? 

Cho. ' Crashed Pergamus down. 



2-4- Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheks 

Hec. The earthquake thereof shall engulf the town ! 

O sorrow's crown! 

O tottering limbs upbear 

My steps; to the life of bondage fare. 
Cho. O hapless Troy ! Yet down to the strand 

And the galleys Achaean my feet must strain. 
Hec. O land — of my children the nursing-land ! 

Cho. Woe, wail the refrain! 

More direct and terrible are the words of Aeschylus: 
Clytemnestra vaunts over the fallen city — 

Today the Achaean s fill the streets of Troy. 
Methinks a shout discordant strikes the ear. 
Pour vinegar and oil in the selfsame vessel 
And you will name them standing sundered foes. 
So of the captives and the captors rise 
Discordant voices of a twofold fate. 
For they, the captives, fallen on many a corpse 
Of men, their brethren, sons across their sires, 
No longer from a throat whose speech is free 
Bewail the ruin of their near and dear. 

And the chorus boasts that Zeus 

Down on the towers of Troytown has cast 

A net so fine-wrought that no leap hath o'er past 

Nor of aged nor young, the mighty slave snare 

Of a doom that will bear 

One and all to destruction within her. 

And through strophe and antistrophe we see the might 
of Peitho who leads men to follow in the footsteps of Love 
to their utter undoing. 

The herald speaks no less grimly: 

Agamemnon Hath torn down Troy with Zeus' avenging 

[mattock 
And therewith ploughed up utterly the plain. 
Her altars all unseen, gods' images, 
The seed of all the soil now wastes away. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 25 

Agamemnon says: 

By smoke the conquered city stands a sign; 

The blasts of Ate live; but with them dying 

The ashes breathe rich breath of wealth abroad. 

For this must we make memorable return 

Unto the gods; since we our wrathful snares 

Set close about the city. For a woman 

The beast of Argos laid a city low; 

A horse's foal, a folk that bears the shield, 

Leaping its leap when Pleiades go down, 

It crossed the walls, a lion carnal-mad, 

And lapped its very fill with tyrant's blood. 

Through the power of Love the very earth is shaken. 
By the aid of Aphrodite Typhoeus was born, a monster 
that threatened the very throne of Zeus. In the great bat- 
tle that ensued "earth resounded terribly, and the wide 
heaven above, and the sea and Ocean's streams and the 
nether parts of the earth. Great Olympus reeled beneath 
the divine feet of the king as he arose and the earth groaned 
thereat. And through the two of them the heat took hold 
on the dark-blue sea, through the thunder and the light- 
ning and through the fire from the monster, and the 
scorching winds and the blazing thunderbolt. The whole 
earth seethed, and the sky and sea: and the long waves 
raged along the beaches, round and about, at the rush of 
the deathless gods: and there arose an endless shaking." 

From the maimed body of the monster arose a terrible 
vapor that scorched a great part of earth. And boisterous 
winds arose. Some rush upon the misty sea and work 
great havoc among men with their evil, raging blasts; and 
men who meet these upon the sea have no help against 
the mischief. Others again over the boundless flowering 
earth spoil the fair fields of men who dwell below, filling 
them with dust and cruel uproar. (Hes. Theog. 840 ff.) 



26 Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Cp. Swinburne: 

And under thee newly arisen 

Loud shoals and shipwrecking reefs, 
Fierce air and violent light; 
Sail rent and sundering oar, 

Darkness and noises of night; 
Clashing of streams in the sea, 

Wave against wave as a sword, 
Clamor of currents, and foam; 
Rains making ruin on earth, 
Winds that wax ravenous and roam 
As wolves in a wolfish horde; 

And referring to Persephone he says 

Fruits growing faint in the tree, 

And blind things dead in their birth; 
Famine and blighting of corn. 

Demeter in her grief for her daughter, carried off by 
Pluto, "caused a most dreadful and cruel year for man- 
kind over the all-nourishing earth; the ground would not 
make the seed sprout, for rich-crowned Demeter kept it 
hid. In the fields the oxen drew many a curved plough 
in vain, and much white barley was cast upon the ground 
without avail. So she would have destroyed the whole 
race of man with cruel famine" had Zeus not intervened. 

The dividing of friend against friend, 
The severing of brother and brother; 

This is the theme of the Iliad; the wrath of Achilles 
because of a maiden. 

The last stanza is a resume of the woes that Love 
has brought upon mortals; and of these woes the great of 
earth have had their share. Euripides, in the prologue of 
Helen, has shown how ruin befell Trov. Zeus, beguiled bv 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 27 

Aphrodite with love for Leda, sought refuge on her bosom 
in the guise of a swan pursued by an eagle. Thus the 
divine and fatal origin of Helen is explained. Further- 
more Aphrodite fomented strife among the immortals 
by her trick in the affair of the judgment of Paris. 

To a hollow vale on Ida came three goddesses to Paris, for beauty's 
prize contending, Hera and Cypris and the virgin child of Zeus, eager 
to secure his verdict on their loveliness. Now Cypris held out my 
beauty, — if aught so wretched deserves that name, — as a bride before 
the eyes of Paris, saying he should marry me; and so she won the day; 
wherefore the shepherd of Ida left his steading, and came to Sparta, 
thinking to win me for his bride. 

and the will of Zeus straightway 

Upon the land of Hellas and the hapless Phrygians brought war. 

On this account Helen says 

there by Scamander's stream hath many a life breathed out its last, and 

[all for me. 
She laments, saying 

For mine anguish I raise an exceeding great bitter cry! 

How shall I agonize forth my lament? to what muse draw nigh 

With tears, with death-dirges, or with moanings of misery? 

Woe's me, woe's me. 

Come Sea-maids, hitherward winging, 

Daughters of Earth's travail-throes, 

Sirens, to me draw nigh, 

That your flutes and your pipes may sigh 

In accord with my wailings and cry 

To my sorrows consonant ringing 

With tears, lamentations and woes. 

O would but Persephone lend 

Fellow-mourners from Hades, to blend 

Death-dirges with mine ! 

The chorus hears her "pitiful wailing"; 

Mournful and wild did it seem 
As the shriek of a Naiad's despair 



28 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Far-borne on the mountain air, 
When she moans faint-fleeing the snare, 
When the might of Pan is prevailing, 
And the gorges where cataracts stream 
Ring to her scream. 

Paris came for Helen and with him 

in treacherous malice 
Came Cypris, the bringer of Death's desolation 
Unto Danaus' sons, unto Priam's nation. 
Woe is me for my lot, who am misery's bride. 

And later she laments: 

Woe, hapless Troy, for thee, woe. 

Thou hast perished for sins not thine own, under misery's load brought 

[low! 
And the gifts of Cypris to me for their fruit have borne 
Rivers of blood and of tears, and to them that mourn 
Anguish is added, and griefs to the grief-forlorn. 
There are mothers for dead sons weeping; 
There are maids that have cast shorn hair 
Where seaward Scamander on-sweeping 

The limbs of their brothers bare. And from Hellas a cry, a cry 
Ringeth heavenward wild and high 
And with frenzied hands on her head 
She smiteth; her fingers are red 
From the cheeks that the blood-furrows dye. 

Then follows here, as in the Chorus of Hippolytus, a 
specific example from mythology, of the cruelty of Love, 
similar to the one with which Swinburne closes his chorus. 

Ah maiden of Arcady, happy, Callisto, art thou, 

O fourfoot-pacing thing who wast Zeus' bride, 

Better by far than my mother's is thy lot now, 

Who hast cast the burden of human sorrow aside, 

And only now for the shaggy limb 

Of the brute with tears are thy fierce eyes dim. 

Yea, happier she whom Artemis drave from her choir, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 29 

A stag, gold-antlered Merops' Titanian daughter, 
Because of her beauty; but mine with the brands of desire 
Hath enkindled Dardanian Pergamus' ruin-pyre 
And hath given the Achaeans to slaughter. 

Aeschylus' characterization of Helen is quite brief, 
but remarkably comprehensive: ekevavs, ekavdpos, eXex- 
roXis, not because of her own sins, but through the will 
of the stern implacable Aphrodite. Instance of her might 
fallen on the cities of men are many. See Sophocles, 
Tr. 431, where Heracles destroys Oechalia, because he 
loved Iole, the daughter of king Eurytus: 

<bs Tabrrjs irodq 

7r6Xis dafxdri Taaa, kov% 17 Avbia 

irepaeiev avT-qv, dXX' 6 rfjs <fpo>s <pavels. 

Likewise Euripides, Hipp., 525 ff. 

"Epwra be, rbv rvpavvov avbp&v 
. . . ov <T0l^ofxev, 
irkpdovTa Kai 5ta iraaas 
iovra <rvp.(popas 
dvarots, otuv iXdrj. 

The ruthless power of love is the central thought in all 
this. See Jebb, Soph. Antig. notes 782-3. 

In the Agamemnon we have an example of Eros 
reacting on the individuals he inspired. The capture of 
Troy is the stroke of Zeus, but under that stroke falls 
also the conqueror of Troy, as an atonement for being 
led too far. Love, the lust for slaughter and ruin, fell 
upon the victorious host in its victory, and led it to 
desecrate what was forbidden. 

Cornford says of it, p. 157: "The conquerors of Troy 
are beset by Eros, the spirit of rapine; but this passion is 
not conceived as a natural state of mind determined by a 



30 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

previous state — the effect of a normal cause; it is a spirit 
(daimon) which haunts, swoops down, and takes posses- 
sion of the soul, when reason slumbers and keeps no 
watch." Now it is in this respect that Swinburne is not 
Aeschylean ; the malignity of his divinities is not the result 
of the mistakes of men, but of their ill-will towards men. 

Third Episode 

Atalanta. enters and greets the sun and Artemis and 
speaks at length of her devotion to her goddess. The 
speech is, in effect, a repetition of the prologue. Meleager 
then addresses Atalanta about as Hippolytus addresses 
Artemis. He looks upon her as something divine. He is 
taunted by his mother's brothers and angry words are 
exchanged, but the scene is interrupted by the queen who 
warns them that words may turn snakes. Atalanta then 
makes her long rhesis in which she sets forth her case. 
At the end she warns them with a sort of divine indigna- 
tion to refrain transgressing hands and lips lest they die. 
Oeneus pronounces his blessing on the hunt and the 
procession starts. Here follows the chorus of The Word 
is Death. 

Third Stasimon 

Atalanta, at the close of her speech, just before the 
huntsmen start on their way, gives stern and ominous 
warning to those who by their sharp and sarcastic utter- 
ances have opposed her participation in the hunt, first 
appealing to the supreme judge to judge between them. 

for now, 
If there be any highest in heaven, a god 
Above all thrones and thunders of the gods 
Throned, and the wheels of the world roll under him, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 31 

Judge he between me and all of you, and see 
If I transgress at all; but ye, refrain 
Transgressing hands and reinless mouths, and keep 
Silence, lest by much foam of violent words 
And proper poison of your lips ye die. 

This motivates not only the chorus following but all 
the rest of the play. For all too soon do reinless words 
set free transgressing hands. The double figure used by 
Swinburne has two aspects; one looking to the hunt with 
its din and clamor and deeds of prowess; the other psy- 
chological, showing the sinister working of fate within 
the mind of more than one treading the wretched stage, 
and man's utter unconsciousness of the lurking powers of 
darkness that wait to hurl him to ruin. The chorus, 
taking up the theme of the Infatuate Word proceeds to 
lash itself into a very ecstasy of fury that leads straight 
to the shambles of Ate. Of this chorus, Woodberry says: 
(Swinburne, p. 62) "the thought is arrived at through 
the spectacle of the suffering of the human race, and 
applies, as it were, to the Zeus of Prometheus." But the 
attitude of Prometheus the god toward his brother god 
is mild when compared with the attitude of man, the mud- 
moulded ephemeral, towards his sardonic creator, whom 
he pleases to characterize as the supreme evil. Swinburne 
is probably playing on the meaning of the word supreme, 
as he often does, having in mind the warning of Oceanus 
to Prometheus, particularly the lines 

d 8' &8e Tpaxets Kai T^9rjyp.ivovs \6yovs 
plipeis, rax' av crov KaL fio.Kpav avoirepco 
d<LK&v KkboL 7a&}$, bare aoi rbv vvv ox^ov 
Tapdvra p,6x0w iratSiav elvai boKtiv. 

Prometheus calls nature to witness his sufferings; 
man taunts god himself as the author and the malignant 



32 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

dispenser of the ills that fall to mortal lot. Prometheus 
sees the end of his sufferings, though it is far away; man 
knows that 

A little fruit a little while is ours, 
And the worm finds it soon. 

But for him there is death and much forgetfulness of 
things, a boon for which Prometheus cannot hope. He 
does know, however, that time will bring reconciliation 
and release from pain. Man takes pleasure in throwing 
into god's face his sardonic delight in afflicting his children. 
Prometheus is fellow god and benefactor of Zeus, with 
perfect foreknowledge of the future; man is the thing 
fashioned with loathing and love and clothed with 
derision, whose life is a watch between a sleep and a 
sleep. He has done nothing for god nor is there anything 
for him to do. Prometheus is in disfavor with Zeus 
because of his attempt to relieve man of some of his 
affliction, which he knows has arisen from the injustice 
of Zeus. He has made life more tolerable for him in many 
ways, particularly by hiding from him foreknowledge of 
his doom, whereas Zeus had put into his eyes foreknowl- 
edge of death. Prometheus is not the only example of 
the cruelty of Zeus; there is Atlas, Typhon, the giants in 
Tartarus, besides individuals of the earth-born brood 
chosen for particular afflictions, of whom Io is a good 
example. Prometheus is too free of speech; the chorus 
tells him so, as do Oceanus his friend and Hermes his 
enemy. For man the word is death. The closing admoni- 
tion of the Swinburnian chorus is to keep lips from over- 
speech, echoing in this the warning of Atalanta. But 
unfortunately for our hero the vain word has been spoken 
already. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 33 

This chorus is Aeschylean in its thunderous flow and 
in its accepting without question the existence of the gods 
that overwhelm us with affliction. It is un- Aeschylean in 
"that it gives no motive nor justification for such treatment; 
Tn that, it is Euripidean, for Euripides often takes a hostile 
attitude towards the gods because of their treatment of 
mortals. They are the authors of all our woes. 

Thou hast laid 
Upon us with thy left hand life and said 
Live: and again thou hast said, Yield up your breath, 
And with thy right hand laid upon us death, 

is an echo of Euripides' Medea, 1109 ff. 

But one crowning woe for every mortal man I now will name; suppose 
that they have found sufficient means to live, and see their children 
grow to man's estate and walk in virtue's path, still, if fortune so befall, 
comes death and bears the children's bodies off to hades. Can it be any 
profit to the gods to heap upon us mortal men beside our other woes this 
further grief? 

Helen, when reproached by Menelaus for her flight with 
Paris, cries (Troad. 1042 f.) 

I implore thee impute not to me that heaven-sent affliction. 

Apollo lives up to his name that is a destroying. 

O fair shining Helios, how hast thou destroyed him and me also. 
Rightly among mortals art thou called Apollo, fr. 781. 

So in fr. 273, 

For all men and not for us alone, the god at one time or another has 
ruined life. No one bears good fortune to the end. 

For the same idea in various guises see Hecuba, 197; 
721; Phoen. 1030; Iph. Aul. 411; upon the high and low 



34 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

alike fall their ill-will; sometimes the low fare better 
than the high. Cf. Helen, 1213, 

The base are often more fortunate than the noble, 
and Orestes, 954, 

So you must leave the light; your noble birth has availed you nought, 
nor the Pythian Phoebus, seated on his tripod, but rather has he de- 
stroyed you. 

They bring us into hopeless situations to observe how 
we would extricate ourselves. Agamemnon in the hope- 
lessness and perplexity of misfortune that demands the 
sacrifice of his daughter, cries, 

How by the gods I am whelmed amid despair. (Iph. Aul. 536.) 

In the same play, 24, we see that for the slightest pretext 
they ruin our life. 

For the god's will clashed with man's will now, 
Wrecking his life. 

Justice does not exist, or else she is blind. 

oi>x opq. Aiko. kclkovs, 

ov5' d/xti/Serai jSporcov acrweaias. 

Swinburne begins his chorus with a very striking 
characterization of "T/3pis made manifest in the word. It 
leads a man to ruin. 

Who hath given man speech? or who hath set therein 

A thorn for peril and a snare for sin? 

For in the word his life is and his breath, 

And in the word his death, 

That madness and the infatuate heart may breed 

From the womb's word the deed 

And life bring one thing forth ere all pass by, 

Even one thing which is ours yet cannot die — 

Death. 



Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 35 

This is an Aeschylean idea, but Swinburne has made of it 
a too universal application. Aeschylus applies it to 
those who because of their sins have brought upon 
themselves the just resentment of god. But Swinburne 
in his sweeping generalization applies it to wise men and 
to fools, — to the whole human race. The high gods in 
their hate have overwhelmed us all, and through no fault 
of our own, but for their good pleasure. 

Having promised us death, he reverts to the sorrows 
and tears that are ours, for our woes and mishaps and old 
age, treating the last in true Euripidean manner. In fact the 
whole outlook upon life is Euripidean. We all carry 
our burdens, beneath which each one is crushed. (Alces- 
tis, 893 f.) 

<jvp<popa 5' krepovs krepa 
irik£ « (paveiaa dvar&v. 

For us our doom is fixed; it is ours to bear. (Alcestis, 20) 

rfJSe yap <r<p' kv ijpepa 
davtiv irkirpoiTat. ko.1 ixeTaaTTJvai filov. 

The chorus closes the Hecuba with this hopeless advice: 

Ire irpds Xt/xcvas aurjvas re, <pl\at, 
tuv 8e<Tiroavvo)i> ireipaabp-evai 
p,6x0<>>v' areppa yap avayKT). 

From god comes what comes, Fr. 62 

rb Oeiov ws aeXirrov epxerai 

dvrjToZaiv, ZKicet 5' ovttot' «c rabrov ruxas. 

No one is wholly blest. Fr. 150 

ovk tariv 6<ttis etiruxijs l<pv Pporoiv, 
ov fxri t6 deiov ws ra iroXXa <rvv8k\ei. 

From evil there is no escape, Fr. 444 

& Salfxov, cbs oiiK 1<tt' airo<JTpo<pii fjpoTois 
t&v (/j,<pvtuv re Kal deqhaTuv KaicZv. 



36 Swinburne's Atalania in Calydon and Erechtheus 
Mishaps are many and they find us all. (Hipp. 981) 

ovk 0I8' 6tcoi% elwoifi' av evrvx&v rlva. dvrjTuiv 

for 

ToWai ye iroWols e\oi crvfjupopal fipoT&v 

pop<pal 8e 8ia<pepov<rip' tv 8' av einvxes 

poXis ttot' ei-evpoi rts avdp&irw &iop. (Ion, 381 ff) 

The lot of all is unstable; the fool alone feels secure. 
(Troad. 1203 ff) 

dvrjT&v 8k n&pos 6<ttis ev Trpaaoeiv boK&v 
fikftata xafpa' rots rpbirois yap at Tv\al, 
ifjnrXriKTos W5 avdpuiros, aWor' aWoae 
tt7)8uxti, KobSels avrds ebrvxel irore. 

There is, however, this difference between the atti- 
tudes of the two men; Swinburne's eyes are fixed on 
death, while Euripides prefers to contemplate the many 
misfortunes that anticipate death. The following passages 
show the habit of the latter: 

7rdXcu crKOTrodfjLcu ras ri>xas tCjv fiporuv 
cos ev peraWaaaova-iv' 8s yap av a<pa\% 

els opdbv earrj x& irpiv evrvx&v irirvei. Fr. 262 



and 
and 

and 



<pev, ra rdv evSatpovovvrcov cbs rdx^ra arpe<pet Beds. Fr. 540 

7roXXa$ y' 6 8al(j.(j)v rod filov neraaraaets 
ebumev r}p.lv perafioXas re rrjs tvxv*- Fr. 554 

fie&aia 8' ovSeis evrvxei dvrjrds yeyi>is. Fr. 1074 



Swinburne's attitude to old age is Euripidean, rather 
than Aeschylean, although he probably caught his 
theme from the Agamemnon, where old age when the 
leaf has been shed goes his three-footed ways, nothing 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 37 

better than a dream that roams in the daytime. There 
is the same Euripidean amplification and the same lament. 

Yea, and with weariness of lips and eyes, { 
With breaking of the bosom and with sighs, 
J We labor, and are clad and fed with grief 

And filled with days we would not fain behold 

And nights we would not hear of; we wax old, 

All we wax old and wither like a leaf. 

We are outcast, strayed between bright sun and moon; 

Our light and darkness are as leaves of flowers, 

Black flowers and white, that perish; and the noon 

As midnight, and the night as daylight hours. 

The chorus of the Heracles gives the characteristic 
Euripidean attitude towards this condition of life. "Ce 
sont de gens que Page accable, et qui loin de cacher leur 
faiblesse, semblent prendre plaisir a la detailler. lis s'en 
vont, appuyes sur un baton, les genoux branlants; ils 
chantent une triste complainte; la blancheur de leurs 
cheveux est aussi eclatante que celles de cygnes. Ils ne 
sont plus qu'une voix, qu'un souffle, qu'une vision de 
songe nocturne. Et ce sont eux-memes, comme toujours, 
qui la constatent, sans y etre contraints." (P. Masqueray, 
Euripide et ses Idees, p. 272.) 

iiiropaxpa peXaflpa nai 
yepaia dkfxvi' ap.<pl /3d/CTpois 
epeicrpa dk/xevos, korak-qv 
lrj\kfjL03P yboiv dot — 

56$ &(TT€ 7To\lOS OpPLS, 

ewea p.6vov icai 86icri — 

pa WKTtpwwov kvvvxuv oveipoiv, 

rpopepa /xtv, dXX' opcos irpodvii ' . 

The question as to what we shall do with the tears 
shed on our journey to this bourne both Swinburne and 



;s N vinburncs Aialania in I and Erechthdks 

Euripides leave unanswered, although the former does 
make some interesting suggestions. 



++ 



What shall be done with all these tears of ours? 
Shall they make watersprings in the fair heaven 
To bathe the bro\v> of morning? or like flower- 
Be shed and shine before the starriest hours, 
Or make the raiment of the weeping » 
Or rather, our masters, shall they be 
Food tor the famine of the grievous sea. 
A great well-head of lamentation 
Satiating the sad gods? or fall and flow 
Among the years and seasons to and fro, 
And wash their feet with tribulation 
\nd till them full with grieving ere they go? 

Throughout Euripides they trickle just as freely and 
at times with quite as much ostentation. 

SdKpvd t' Sakpi'^i- Kara\tideTai 
aptTtpoHTt 86poi<;' 

Swinburne 's high gods mix our drink with the bubbling 
bitterness of life and death and hold it to our lips and 
laugh; but they taste not, lest they too change and sleep. 
They mix it, however, for the whole human race; and not 
for the man who has sinned, as in Aeschylus, nor for the 
man marked For destruction, as in Sophocles. There we 
see that 'though one look well, he will not find the mortal 
who, if the god should draw him on to evil, could escape.' 
Swinburne takes the Euripidean outlook; god confounds 
everything. 

But up in heaven the high gods one by one 
Lay hands upon the draught that quickeneth. 
Fulfilled with all tears shed and all things done. 
And stir with soft imperishable breath 
The bubbling bitterness of life and death, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 59 

And hold it to our lips and laugh; but they 

Preserve their lips from tasting night or day, 

Lest they too change and sleep, the fates that spun, 

The lips made us and the hands that slay; 

Lest all these change and heaven bow down to none. 

Change and be subject to the secular sway 

And terrene revolution of the sun. 

^Therefore they thrust it from them, putting time away. 

For a similar notion of the immortality of the gods 
see Iliad 5, 341 f: where in explanation of the statement 
that ichor flowed from the wounded wrist of Aphrodite, 
the poet says: 

ov yap alrov eooua', ov wlvovcr' aWoira olvov, 
tow€k' avalfj.oves ei<xt. icai adavaroi KaXeovrai. 

* In regard to the immortality of the gods, Sappho has 3 aid: "To 
die was an evil, the gods having so decided, since had it not been so they 
themselves would have died." 

Euripides cites an instance and adds his comment. 
Polymestor speaks to Queen Hecuba, Hec. 952 ff. 

O Hecuba, I weep beholding thee, 

Thy city, and thine offspring slain so late. 

Xaught is there man may trust, nor high repute, 

Xor present weal — for it may turn to woe; 

All things the gods confound, hurl this way and that. 

Turmoiling all, that we, foreknowing naught, 

May worship them: — what skills it to make moan 

For this, outrunning evils none the more? 

In the Orestes the chorus cries "Alas for the deeds of the 
malice of heaven," to which Electra replies: 

Wrongful was he who uttered that wrongful rede 
When Loxias, throned on the tripod of Themis, decreed 
The death of my mother, a foul unnatural deed. 



40 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

In the Ion, Creusa's thoughts of Apollo are none too kind. 

But, looking on Apollo's dwelling place, 
I traversed o'er an ancient memory's track: 
Afar my thoughts were, and my body here. 
Ah, wrongs of women wrongful-reckless deeds 
Of gods! For justice where shall we make suit, 
Tf 'tis our Lords' injustice crushes us? 

The wish to reduce the gods to the state of man's 
wretchedness for an hour has a ring of Homeric naivete. 
We get a hint, however, in Hippolytus, 1415, where in 
reply to his father's admission that the gods had caused 
his wit to stumble, Hippolytus cries: 

that men's curses could but strike the gods! 

Swinburne has treated the subject in a very comprehensive 
manner. 

1 would the wine of time, made sharp and sweet 
With multitudinous days and nights and tears 
And many mixing savors of strange years, 
Were no more trodden of them under feet, 
Cast out and spilt about their holy places; 
That life were given them as a fruit to eat 

And death to drink as water; 

The remainder of the chorus is made up of a very 
elaborate statement of the theory of compensation in 
divine providence, the theory that the gods never give to 
mortals unmixed blessings. This idea is as old as Homer. 
Cf. II. 24, 525 

"Qs yap eireKXcoaavTo deol det.\ol<n (3poTolaiu, 
<Tw€iJ> axwixeuois' avrol 5e r' a/CTjSees tiaiv . 

"For two urns stand upon the floor of Zeus filled with 
his evil gifts, and one with blessings. To whomsoever 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 41 

Zeus whose joy is the lightning dealeth a mingled lot, 
that man chanceth now upon ill and now again upon good, 
but to whom he giveth but of the bad kind him he bringeth 
to scorn, and evil famine chaseth him over the goodly 
earth, and he is a wanderer honored of neither gods nor 
men." 

The arraignment of the supreme evil is very strong; 
it might have been inspired, as Swinburne himself said of 
Shakespeare's Timon, by the triune furies of Ezekiel, 
Juvenal, and Dante. 

The ode sinks to repose in true Greek manner, closing 
with the following classical injunction: 

But ye, keep ye on earth 

Your lips from over-speech. 

Loud words and longing are so little worth; 

And the end is hard to reach. 

For silence after grievous things is good, 

And reverence and the fear that makes men whole, 

And shame and righteous governance of blood, 

And lordship of the soul. 

But from sharp words and wits men pluck no fruit, 

And gathering thorns they shake the tree at root; 

For words divide and rend; 

But silence is most noble to the end. 

The idea is a Greek commonplace. Cf. Prometheus, 
311 ff. Oceanus urges Prometheus to 

Know thyself; come, fashion anew thy ways; 

New is the tyrant now who rules the gods. 

But if thou wilt thus vent rough, whetted words, 

Speedily, though he sits so very high, 

Zeus, hearing thee, will make thy present horde 

Of troubles seem the merest play of children. 



and 320 



Yet such, Prometheus, comes to be the wage 
Of him whose tongue upvaunteth overhigh. 



42 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

and 329 ff. 

But thou be silent, not in speech perverse; 
For knowest thou not, who art exceeding wise, 
The penalty that plagues an idle tongue? 

See also Sophocles, Antigone, 127 

Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue; 

and 1347 ff. 

Wisdom is the supreme part of happiness; and reverence towards 
the gods must be inviolate. Great words of prideful men are ever 
punished with great blows, and, in old age, teach the chastened to be 
wise. 

The whole matter is stated briefly but convincingly in 
Prov. 18, 7 

A fool's mouth is his destruction 
And his lips are the snare of his soul 

and 21, 

Death and life are in the power of the tongue : 
And they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof. 

Fourth Episode 

The fourth episode is particularly Homeric in spirit 
and suggestiveness, to which is added a certain coloring 
suggested by the herald in the Electra of Sophocles. In 
her first speech Althaea airs her Aeschylus by calling 
attention to the warder gods that face the sun. Agam. 
519. There is a Homeric ring in the 

clashes of swift hoofs and trampling feet 
And through the windy pillared corridor — cf . II. 24, 323 

At the word of good news Althaea orders sacrifice in 
imitation of her great prototype, Clytemnestra. Cf. Ag. 
86 IT. The herald recalls Homer at once by giving us 



Swinburne *s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 43 

the roster of the hunt. Some of the huntsmen are found 
in the great Catalogue, while others appear on the roster 
of the good ship Argo. We see Laertes, island born, the 
young Gerenian Nestor, the beautiful Atalanta from whose 

white braced shoulder the plumed shafts 
Rang, and the bow shone from her side. 

who is a Virgilian Artemis rather than Homeric. Cf. 
Aen. 6, 498; Od. 6, 102; Apoll. Arg. 3, 875. Meleager is 
like the sun in spring, and the twin sons of Leda, whom 
Althaea had likened to one sundered star, the Horatian 
lucida sidera. And there were Toxeus and Plexippus and 
the keenest eye of Lynceus, even as he was called in the 
Argonautica. The details of the hunt follow very closely 
the account of Ovid. 






Fourth Stasimon 
rest after toil 



This chorus is motivated by the close of the herald's 
speech in which he describes the place where the hunters 
were resting after their struggle with the boar. When the 
work was all over they 

Sat and drew breath and drank and made great cheer, 

And washed the hard sweat off their calmer brows. 

For much sweet grass, grew higher than grew the reed, , 

And good for slumber, and every holier herb, 

Narcissus, and the low-lying melilote, 

And all of goodliest blade and bloom that springs 

Where, hid by heavier hyacinth, violet buds 

Blossom and burn; and fire of yellower flowers 

And light of crescent lilies, and such leaves 

As fear the Faun's and know the Dryad's feet; 

Olive and ivy and poplar dedicate, 

And many a well-spring overwatched of these. 

There now they rest; 



44 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Based on such a theme, it offers one of the few examples 
found in Swinburne of the peaceful mood, when the noon- 
day quiet holds the hill. The singer seems to lie back 
in the shadows, lulled by every peaceful note of the wood- 
lands and breathed upon by every fragrant wind that 
haunts the vale. There are few things like it in the lan- 
guage, and among those few it must be given first place. 
The spirit and form suggest at the very outset the great 
chorus in the Oedipus Coloneus of Sophocles, although 
in substance it owes very little to that passage. It is the 
low pitched mood that suggests Sophocles' Colonus, while 
the content is more Euripidean. 

O that I now, I too were 
By deep wells and waterfloods, 
Streams of ancient hills, and where 
All the wan green places bear 
Blossoms cleaving to the sod, etc. 

are very close to the fancy of Phaedra who in her love 
fever longs for the woods and streams. Hippol. 208 ff. 

(Oh but to quaff, where the spray-veil drifteth 
O'er taintless fountains, the dear cool stream ! 

Oh to lie in the mead where the soft wind lifteth 
Its tresses — 'neath poplars to lie and dream. 

Let me hence to the mountain afar — I will hie me 
To the forest, the pines — ) 

Here Swinburne seemed unable to go on with the 
description without introducing the presence of a god, 
just as the Greeks have done in many of their best descrip- 
tions. The divinity seems to have been needed to lend 
grace to the painting, or to give it a purpose. So when the 
poet thinks of ivy it is quite natural to say 

darkest ivy buds 
As divide thy yellow hair, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 45 

Bacchus, and their leaves that nod 
Round thy fawn-skin brush that bare 
Snow-soft shoulders of a god. 

So in the Bacchae, 81 f. 

tcuraQ re (JTetpavoiBtU 
Aidvvov depaTTtvei 

And 111 f. 

GTIKT03V T* kvbVTCL Vtfip'lhtoiV 

arecpere \evKOTpixuv Trkonamav 
paXKols' 

Snow-soft seems like a new epithet for the shoulders of 
the god, although we find snowy flesh of Adonis stained 
by blood. Bion, 1, 10 "Pale as grass" gives a Sapphic 
touch, while the vine and the nightingales are common- 
places in Greek as well as English. Sophocles' description 
of Colonus is made up of such, in spite of the fact that it 
is so perfect, poetically. 

(Stranger, in this land of goodly steeds thou hast come to earth's 
fairest home, even to our white Colonus; where the nightingale, a 
constant guest, trills her clear note in the covert of green glades, dwelling 
amid the wine-dark ivy and the god's inviolate bowers, rich in berries 
and fruit, unvisited by sun, unvexed by wind of any storm; where the 
reveller Dionysus ever walks the ground, companion of the nymphs that 
nursed him.) 

There is in Swinburne the same calm. 

Pale as grass or latter flowers 
Or the wild vine's wan wet rings 
Full of dew beneath the moon, 
And all day the nightingale 
Sleeps, and all night sings; 
There in cold remote recesses 
That nor alien eyes assail, 
Feet, nor imminence of wings, 
Nor a wind nor any tune, 
Thou, O queen and holiest, 
Flower the whitest of all things, etc. 



46 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

In Euripides we rind the same touch. Hippolytus, 
offering an anadem to Artemis (Hipp. 73 ff.) says: 

For thee this woven garland from a mead 

Unsullied have I twined, O queen, and bring. 

There never shepherd dares to feed his flock, 

Nor steel of sickle came; only the bee 

Roveth the springtide mead undesecrate; 

And reverence wathereth it with river-dews. 

They which have heritage of self-control 

In all things, purity inborn, untaught, 

These there may gather flowers, but none impure. 

Swinburne, addressing the same goddess, surrounds her 
with the same scenery. 

Or in lower pools that see 
All their marges clothed all round 
With the innumerable lily 
Whence the golden-girdled bee 
Flits through flowering rush to fret 
White or duskier violet 

(Here the poet introduces a reminiscence from Pindar, 
O. 6, 84 ff.) 

Fair as those that in far years 

With their buds left luminous 

And their litde leaves made wet 

From the warmer dew of tears, 

Mother's tears in extreme need, 

Hid the limbs of Iamus 

Of thy brother's seed; 

For his heart was piteous 

Toward him even as thine heart now 

Pitiful toward us. 

In Pindar the new-born Iamus "was hidden among rushes 
in an impenetrable brake, his tender body all suffused 
with golden and deep purple gleams of violet flowers." 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 47 

Swinburne owes considerable to Euripides in this 
chorus. And in addition to the actual reminiscences, 
which are many, he has caught the gleam and radiancy of 
the Greek rationalist at his very best. The cold dark 
recesses of the woods, the passionless white goddess, 
before whom is set the picture of a little child in the hope 
of evoking some tenderness and compassion — in this we 
see a picture that is both Swinburnian and Euripidean in 
its pathos. 

Aeschylus. Agamemnon, 140 ff. has a similar invoca- 
tion to Artemis. 



Though so kind, O lady fair, 
To the tender dew drops of a lion's lair, 
And to the sucklings of all beasts we find 
Roaming the fields thou art of gentle mind, 
Consent the signs of these things to fulfill, 
Visions of good and visions too of ill. 



Swinburne's "Be thou favorable and fair" is the note 
that was struck in the prologue. As often with him, the 
close is bathos. 

But do thou, sweet, otherwise. 
Having heed of all our prayer, 
Taking note of all our sighs; 
We beseech thee by thy light, 
By thy bow and thy sweet eyes, 
And the kingdom of the night, 
Be thou favorable and fair; 
By thine arrows and thy might, 
And Orion overthrown; 
By the maiden thy delight, 
By^the indissoluble Zone 
And the sacred hair. 



48 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Fifth Episode 

The messenger reports the death of Toxeus and 
Plexippus. Then follows Althaea's great conflict of 
soul between love of brothers and love of son. We have 
an Euripidean development of the celebrated theme in 
the Antigone of Sophocles. At the conclusion of her 
mental struggle the three fates visit her once more; there 
is now no possibility of escape for Meleager. The house 
is broken, is broken, it shall not stand, sing the chorus, and 
Althaea adds that a rod smote it of old and now the ax is 
here. 

Swinburne has treated the mental struggle of the 
queen in quite Ovidian manner. 

Fifth Stasimon 

the bitter jealousy of god 

The fifth stasimon is motivated by the entrance of the 
Fates, returned to witness the burning of the brand that 
Althaea had been presumptuous years ago to extinguish. 
She now meets them as she goes out to avenge herself on 
her son for the slaughter of her brothers. 

Fire in the roofs, and on the lintel, fire. 

Lo ye, who stand and weave between the doors, 

There; and blood drips from hand and thread and stains 

Threshold and raiment and me passing in 

Flecked with the sudden sanguine drops of death. 

Swinburne draws a sharp antithesis between the birth of 
Love in the second stasimon and that second birth, when 

Fate, mother of desires and fears, 
Bore unto men the law of tears; 



she is great, 



Swinburne's Atahnila in Calydon and Erechtheus 49 

The daughter of doom, the mother of death, 

The sister of sorrow; a lifelong weight 

That no man's finger lighteneth; 

Nor any god can lighten fate: 

A landmark seen across the way 

Where one race treads where the other trod; 

An evil scepter, an evil stay 

Wrought for a staff, wrought for a rod, 

The bitter jealousy of God. 

See Hes. Theog. 210 ff. 

And Night bare hateful Doom and black Fate and Death, and she 
bare Sleep and the tribe of Dreams. 

For the power of Fate see Eurip. Heracleidae, 615 f. 

To shun what Fate decrees is nowise permitted; none by cunning 
shall thrust it from him; but he, who vainly would do so, shall have 
unceasing trouble. 

In Aeschylus Ate is at times active in leading one into 
the toils. Cf. Per. 97 f. 

(For Delusion, at first all smiles and flattery, coaxes men into her 
stake-nets; but out of them it is not possible for a man to surmount the 
enclosure and escape unhurt.) 

(The glebe of Ate" grows the grain of death.) 

The "law of tears" is a figure similar to Aesch. Choe. 
150 

u/ias 8e kukvtois eiravdi^eiv vdfxos 

Such is the law of Zeus, ordaining that man must walk the 
path that leads to wisdom in sorrow. Ag. 176 ff. 

(Zeus who leads man wisdom-ward 

Makes the path of wisdom hard; 

Save through sorrow, all's debarred. 

Trickles drop by drop in sleep before the heart 

Care that keeps clear in mind sorrow's part. 






50 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Wisdom come9 in their despite, 

Favor forced of gods who sit in splendor 

High enthroned in their might.) 

The idea of the immutability of fate, that neither god nor 
man can change it, is common in Greek and as old as 
Homer. Cf. II. 6, 488 f. 

polpav 5' tlvo. <pr)ni rretpv) ptvov eppevai dvSpoV, 
ov kok6v } ov8l pei> ea9\6v, eTrrfv ra irpu>Ta yevrjTai. 

The same idea is found in Sophocles, Antigone, 951 ft. 

(But dreadful is the mysterious power of fate; there is no deliverance 
irom it by wealth or by war, by fenced city, or dark, sea-beaten ships.) 

The ideas implied in Krjp and 'Eplvves are rather closely- 
related. They are avenging spirits who cause a reversal 
of fortune, cf. Aes. Sept. 1055 

T ii fieyaXavxot ko.1 (pdepaiyeveis Ktjpes 'EpivOe^ 

Agamemnon was aware of what his fate would be if he 
disobeyed the god. Ag. 206 

fiaptia pev kt)p to prj Tideadai 

The Erinyes make the life of the unjust man wretched. 
Ag. 468 

(At him who over man has trod 

Glower the stern fixed eyes of god. 

The dark Erinyes in time 

By sad reversal of life's lot 

Strike him from sight and he is not. 

Among the unseen low he's laid 

With not a hope for one to aid. 

And too much glory is not wise; 

Zeus' bolt is flung against his eyes.) 

In Aeschylus the notion of divine jealousy (<p$6vos) is 
quite prominent, but is always directed against the man 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 51 

who oversteps the limits assigned to him by the gocU. 
Its purpose is to punish sin. Swinburne's "bitter jealousy 
of god" is much more general and all-embracing than 
Aeschylus would attribute to any of the higher powers. 
After Swinburne has presented the idea of divine 
jealousy he reverts to the Eros theme, which in Greek is 
often associated with the idea of <p96vos. His exposition 
of the 'reversal of fortune' idea is quite Greek, but ex- 
pressed in more powerful language than the Greeks were 
in the habit of using. 

Wilt thou cover thine hair with gold and with silver thy feet? 

Hast thou taken the purple to fold thee and made thy mouth sweet? 

Behold, when thy face is made bare, he that loved thee shall hate, 

Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of thy fate. 

For thy life shall fall as the leaf and be shed as the rain; 

And the veil of thine head shall be grief and the crown shall be pain. 

Exodos 

Perhaps the most terrible passage in the play is 
Althaea's speech following the fifth stasimon. It closes, 
to be sure, with the conventional Greek appeal to Earth, 
but it makes an impression far from conventional. The 
language is Biblical in its simplicity and intensity, and 
nowhere is the feeling of pity colored with terror more 
definitely aroused. In the last sentence we get the motif 
of the stasimon: 

Lo, the fire I lit 
I burn with fire to quench it; yea, with flame 
I burn up even the dust and ash thereof. 

Then in a brief stichomythia she mystifies the chorus who 
can see nought but 

A long brand that blackens; and white dust. 



52 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

It is with some impatience that she cries: 

This is my son, my flesh, my fruit of life, 
Meleager, a fire enkindled of mine hands, 
And of mine hands extinguished; this is he. 

So spoke Clytemnestra after the slaughter of her husband: 
1404 ff. 

ovtos kern' A 7 afj.kfj.voop, ifj,6s 
ttoctos, vacpos 5e, rrjade 5e£iSs X*pos 
epyov, 5i/ccuas tcktovos' to.8' oj8' ex«. 

Her last speech, which follows closely, is quite Euripidean 
in sentiment. Both Swinburne and Euripides have given 
children a place of some prominence in their writings. 
Althaea makes use of it in her first rhesis in the first 
episode. Then Meleager was not a "fire enkindled of 
mine hands," but "a goodly flower in fields of fight; at 
his birth he 

Felt the light touch him coming forth, and wailed 
Childlike; .... thee most piteous, thee a tenderer thing 
Than any flower of fleshly seed alive. 

She then compares him to the great warrior (Aes. Sept. 
380-395) 

Yet was he then but a span long, and moaned 
With inarticulate mouth inseparate words, 
And with blind lips and fingers wrung my breast 
Hard, and thrust out with foolish hands and feet, 
Murmuring; 

He had even the temerity to reach out after the fates. 

but those gray women with bound hair 
Who fright the gods frighted not him; he laughed 
Seeing them, and pushed out hands to feel and haul 
Distaff and thread intangible; 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 53 

In the second episode Althaea returns to the subject 
more than once. A woman's honor is "Love, and the cry 
of children." She sees Meleager always as 

the flower of three suns old, 
The small one thing that lying drew down my life 
To lie with thee and feed thee; a child and weak, 
Mine, a delight to no man, sweet to me. 



But fair for me thou wert, O little life, 
Fruitless, the fruit of mine own flesh, and blind, 
More than much gold, ungrown, a foolish flower. 
For silver nor bright snow nor feather of foam 
Was whiter, and no gold yellower than thine hair, 
O child, my child; 

She remembers how her brothers played with her when she 
was a little child. 

For this man dead walked with me, child by child, 

And made a weak staff for my feebler feet 

With his own tender wrist and hand, and held 

And led me softly, and showed me gold and steel 

And shining shapes of mirror and bright crown 

And all things fair; and threw light spears, and brought 

Young hounds to huddle to my feet and thrust 

Tame heads against my little maiden breasts, 

And please me with great eyes; 

In her lament for her brothers she reverts again to the 
subject: 

the love of my born son, 

A new-made mother's new-born love, that grows 
From the soft child to the strong man, now soft, 
Now strong as either, and still one sole same love, 
Strives with me, no light thing to strive withal; 



54 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

And the last, her death-song: 

O child, 
Son, first-born, fairest — O sweet mouth, sweet eyes, 
That drew my life out through my suckling breast, 
That shone and clove my heart through, — O soft knees 
Clinging, O tender treadings of soft feet, 
Cheeks warm with little kissings, — O child, child. 
What have we made each other? Lo, I felt 
Thy weight cleave to me, a burden of beauty, O son, 
Thy cradled brows and loveliest loving lips, 
The floral hair, the little lightening eyes, 
And all thy goodly glory : with mine hands 
Delicately I fed thee, with my tongue 
Tenderly speke, saying, Verily in God's time 
For all the little likeness of thy limbs, 
Son, I shall make thee a kingly man to fight, 
A lordly leader; and hear before I die, 
'She bore the goodliest sword of all the world.' 

Aleleager, too, has a tender feeling for children; he recalls 
his young cousins, Helen and Clytemnestra, whom he 
saw on a visit to Sparta: 

One swan-white, 
The little Helen, and less fair than she, 
Fair Clytaemnestra, grave as pasturing fawns 
Who feed and fear some arrow; but at whiles, 
As one smitten with love or wrung with joy, 
She laughs and lightens with her eyes, and then 
Weeps; whereat Helen, having laughed, weeps too, 
And the other chides her, and she, being chid speaks naught, 
But cheeks and lips and eyelids kisses her, 
Laughing; so fare they, as in their bloomless bud 
And full of unblown life, the blood of gods. 

Even the young chorus has an idea on the subject: for 
when Althaea raves over the death of her brothers, the 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 55 

chorus reminds her that the child is nearer than the 
brothers: 

Nay, for the son lies close about thine heart, 

Full of thy milk, warm from thy womb, and drains 

Life and the blood of life and all thy fruit, 

Eats thee and drinks thee as one who breaks bread and eats. 

Treads wine and drinks, thyself a sect of thee; 

And if he feed not, shall not thy flesh faint? 

Or drink not, are not thy lips dead for thirst? 

The same mother-love is shown by Andromache when 
she deplores the death that must come to her child, now 
that his father is dead. (Tro. 740 ff.) 

O darling child, O prized above all price, 
Thou must leave thy poor mother, die by foes! 



Child, dost thou weep, dost comprehend thy doom? 
Why with thy hands clutch, clinging to my robe, 
Like fledging fleeing to nestle 'neath my wings? 

O tender nursling, sweet to mother, sweet ! 

O balmy breath ! in vain and all in vain 

This breast in swaddling-bands has nurtured thee. 

Vainly I travailed and was spent with toils! 

Now, and no more forever, kiss thy mother, 

Fling thee on her that bare thee, twine thine arms 

Around my waist and lay thy lips to mine. 

Hecuba laments that the child had died otherwise than in 
battle, just as Althaea lamented the ill-fate of her brothers: 
Tro. 1167 ff. 

Ah, darling, what ill death has come on thee ! 

Hadst thou for Troy been slain, when thou hadst known 

Youth, wedlock's bliss, and godlike sovereignty, 

Blest wert thou — if herein may aught be blest, 

But now, once seen and sipped by thy child-soul, 

Thine home-bliss fleets forgotten, unenjoyed. 



56 Swinburne's Atalanto in Calydon and Brecktheus 



Poor child, how sadly thine ancestral halls, 

Upreared by Loxias, from thine head have shorn 

The curls that oft thy mother softly smoothed 

And kissed, wherefrom through shattered bones forth grins 

Murder — a ghastliness I cannot speak. 

Medea, about to slay her children, speaks in a similar 

strain: 

1070 ff. 

Give, to babes, 

(live to your mother the right hand to kiss. 

O dearest hand, O lips most dear to me, 

O form and noble features of my children, 

Blessing be on you — there ! for all things here 

Your sire hath stolen. Sweet, O sweet embrace! 

O children's roseleaf skin, O balmy breath! 

Away, away! Strength faileth me to gaze 

On you, but I am overcome of evil. 

Of this last sentiment Althaea has made much. After 
she has kindled the brand she addresses the chorus: 

I know not if I live; 
Save that I feel the fire upon my face 
And on my cheek the burning of a brand. 
Yea, the smoke bites me, yea I drink the steam 
With nostril and with eyelid and with lip 
Insatiate and intolerant; and mine hands 
Burn, and fire feeds upon mine eyes; I reel 
As one made drunk with living, whence he draws 
Drunken delight; yet I though mad for joy, 
Loathe my long living and am waxen red 
As with the shadow of shed blood; behold, 
I am kindled with the flames that fade in him, 
I am swollen with subsiding of his veins, etc. 

It would be easy to multiply examples; perhaps these 
suffice to show the mental attitude of the two poets. The 
case in Aesch. Choe. 755 ff. is a good example to show how 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 57 

Swinburne so often takes an Aeschylean point of view 
and at once proceeds to treat the subject in true Euripi- 
dean manner. The nurse is musing on the infancy of the 
absent Orestes, under the delusion that he is dead. She 
is distinctly retrospective as Althaea is always. While 
the characters in Euripides addresses the child directly. 
But Swinburne would never use the language of the nurse; 
it is altogether lacking in his kind of sentiment. 

Above all men beside, — 
Lo, how am I thrust 
Into Hades to hide 
My life in the dust! 
All vainly I reverenced god and in vain unto man was I just. 

Both cry for death, but the cry of Meleager is like the 
cry of a delirious man; the pain of Hippolytus more 
poignant. Hipp. 1370 

Let the stricken one be; 
Ah mine anguish again; 
Give ye sleep unto me, 
Death, salve for my pain, 
The sleep of the sword for the wretched, I long, O I long to be slain. 

Meleager not only desires to die; he even takes thought 
where he wishes to lie buried, and he has a vision of the 
world to come. 

Would God ye could carry me 

Forth of all these, 

Heap me and bury me 

By the Chersonese 
Where the thundering Bosphorus answers the thunder of Pontic seas. 

For the dead man no home is; 
Ah better to be 
What the flower of the foam is 
In fields of the sea 
That the sea-waves might be as my raiment, the gulf-stream a garment 

[of me. 



58 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Will ye crown me my tomb 

Or exalt me my name, 

Now my spirits consume 

Now my flesh is a flame? 
Let the sea slake it once and men speak of me sleeping to praise me or 

[blame. 

Would the winds blow me back 

Or the waves hurl me home? 

Ah to touch in the track 

Where the pine learnt to roam 
Cold girdles and crowns of the dea-gods, cool blossoms of water and foam. 

Not the life of men's veins, 
Not of flesh that conceives; 
But the grace that remains, 
The fair beauty that cleaves 
To the life of the rain in the grasses, the life of the dews on the leaves. 

The years are hungry, 
They wail all their days; 
The gods wax angry, 
And weary of praise; 
And who shall bridle their lips? and who shall straiten their ways? 

The cry of Hippolytus is of the immediate present: 

Ah for words of a spell 
That my soul might take flight 
From the tortures, with fell 
Unrelentings that smite 
O for the blackness of Hades, the sleep of Necessity's night. 

Then for his comfort the voice of Artemis speaks. 

Unhappy, bowed 'neath what disaster's yoke! 
Thine own heart's nobleness hath ruined thee. 

He recognizes the voice at once; the form he has never 

seen. 

Ah perfume breath celestial, mid my pains 
I feel thee and mine anguish is assuaged, 
l.o. in this place the goddess Artemis. 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 59 

And she explains to him his plight and shows him why she 
could not save him; but she promises him vengeance and a 
festival and a memory preserved in song. She urges him 
not to hate his father, and seeing the approach of death 
she takes her leave. 

Farewell, I may not gaze upon the dead, 
Nor may with dying gasps pollute my sight : 
And now I see that thou art near the end. 

His last words are with his father. I am gone; I see the 
gates of death. I absolve you of my death, witness 
Artemis. My strength is overcome; I am gone. Cover my 
face with my mantle. 

The whole scene is full of pathos, particularly where 
the youth sees that his death will make no great difference 
to the goddess and is provoked on account of it to say as 
Artemis goes out: 

Farewell to thy departing, Maiden blest; 

Light falls on thee long fellowship's severance. 

Lo, I forgive my father at thy suit, 

As heretofore have I obeyed thy word. 

And o'er my eyes even now the darkness draws. 

Take father, take my body and upraise. 

When Meleager turns to Atalanta, she reproaches 
herself after the manner of Helen in Iliad, 6, 345 ff. 

I would that with feet 
Unsandalled, unshod, 
Overbold, overfleet, 
I had swum not nor trod 
From Arcadia to Calydon, northward, a blast of the envy of god. 

Helen, addressing Hector, cries: 

Would that on the day when my mother bare me at the first, an 
evil storm-wind had caught me away to a mountain or a billow of the 



60 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

loud-sounding sea, where the billow might have swept me away before all 
these things came to pass. 

or, as turned by Tennyson: 

I would the white, cold, heavy-plunging foam 
Whirled by the wind, had rolled me deep below, 
Then when I left my home. 

For the "envy of god" see Aes. Per. 362; 

At his next address she becomes more responsive: 

Though thou art as fire 

Fed with fuel in vain, 

My delight, desire, 

Is more chaste than the rain, 
More pure than the dewfall, more holy than stars are that live without 

[stain. 
Atalanta replies: 

I would that as water 
My life's blood had thawn, 
Or as winter's wan daughter 
Leaves lowland and lawn 
Spring-stricken, or ever mine eyes had beheld thee made dark in thy 

[dawn. 

Meleager sees that he is dying for the sins of others as 
well as his own. As he takes leave of his father he says: 

O holy head of Oeneus, lo thy son 
Guiltless, yet red with alien guilt, yet foul 
With kinship of contaminated lives, 
Lo, for their blood I die; and mine own blood 
For bloodshedding of mine is mixed therewith, 
That death may not discern me from my kin. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 61 

An Euripidean idea; see Hip. 1378 ff. 

Dire curse of my father, 

Sins long ago wrought 

Of mine ancestors gather, 

Their doom tarries not; 
But the scourge overfloweth the innocent, — wherefore on me is it 

[brought? 
Meleager cries: 

Yet with clean heart I die and faultless hand 

just as Hippolytus claims: 

Innocent I, ever fearing the gods, who was wholly heart-clean. 

And the close of this speech of Meleager's is distinctly 

Greek: 

Thou therefore of thy love 
Salute me and bid fare among the dead 
Well, as the dead fare; for the best man dead 
Fares sadly; 

See the famous passage in the Od. 11, 488 fL; Eur. fr. 537; 
and fr. Mel. 536, the motto of the play. 

The kommos that follows seems to me the greatest 
thing of the kind that I have ever seen. To praise it all 
words seem inadequate; surely Swinburne was right in a 
case like this, when he said that it was the business of the 
reader to rejoice in the song that is sung for him and 
praise the gift of the singer. As for the song, it is not for 
him to handle. With this in mind, I shall touch as lightly 
as possible this great death symphony, although material 
for comparison is abundant. 

Meleager, while crowning Atalanta, is stricken with 
sudden agony from the kindling of the brand, 

and grasping his own hair groaned 
And cast his raiment round his face and fell. 



62 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Muffling the face at the approach of death seems to be a 
favorite literary device; even in Shakespere we find 

then burst his mighty heart; 
And in his mantle muffling up his face, 
Even at the base of Pompey's statua, 
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 

The cry of Oeneus at the mishap of Meleager is close to 
that of Creon in the Medea, when he sees his daughter 
caught in the meshes of the magic veil : 

But the king twitched his reins in and leapt down 
And caught him, crying out twice, O child; and thrice, 
So that men's eyelids thickened with their tears: 

Cf. Medea, 1206 ff. 

But ignorant of all, her wretched sire, 

Suddenly entering, falls upon her corpse, 

And straightway wailed and clasped the body round, 

And kissed it, crying, "O my hapless child, 

What god thus horribly hath thee destroyed?" 

Meleager's cry of pain is much more dignified and 
full of modern stoicism than that of Hippolytus, but there 
is much in common in the two death scenes. The dying 
men are brought in to the sound of mourning. Euripides' 
chorus announces the coming and draws a sympathetic 
picture. 

Lo, lo, the stricken one borne 
Hitherward, with his young flesh torn 
And his golden head of its glory shorn. 
Ah griefs of the house, what doom 
Twofold on thine halls hath come 
By the gods' will shrouded in sorrow's gloom. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 63 

No translator could make Euripides approach the splendor 
of the passage in Swinburne, who seems to have gathered 
from all the world food for a funeral feast such as even 
the gods had not known till then. The chorus sings in 
two-verse groups, interrupted by three verses of spoken 
pentameter. I omit the latter. 

Without sword, without sword is he stricken. 

Slain, and slain without hand; 
He wastes as the embers quicken, 

With the brand he fades as a brand. 
With rending of cheek and of hair, 

Lament, ye, mourn for him, weep; 
Alas, for visions that were, 

And soothsayings spoken in sleep. 
Lament with a long lamentation, 

Cry, for an end is at hand. 
Cry aloud, O thou kingdom, O nation. 

O stricken, a ruinous land. 
Thou art smitten, her lord, her desire, 

Thy dear blood wasted as rain, 
Thou madest thy sword as a fire, 

With fire for a sword thou art slain. 



Alcestis wastes away in the same manner but to no such 
beautiful music. Cf. Alcestis 201 ff. 

(Admetus) weeps and clasps his dear one in his arms 

And prays, "Forsake me not," asking the while 

The impossible, for still she wanes and wastes, . 

Drooping her head, a misery-burdened weight; 

But yet, albeit hardly breathing still, 

To the sun's rays fain would she lift her eyes, 

As nevermore, but for the last time now 

Destined to see the sun's beam and his orb. 



64 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

The chorus adds its lament : 

"Cry, land Pheraean, shrill and keen! 
Lift up thy voice to wail thy best 
There dying, and thy queenliest 
Slow wasting to the gates unseen. 

Swinburne was right in this instance at least; it is easy 
for him to tower head and shoulders above Euripides. 
Way, who evidently saw in Swinburne's great kommos a 
reminiscence of the lament of Hippolytus, has translated 
the verse of Euripides in the Swinburne stanza form, and 
given it some touches of Swinburnian color; but his effort 
goes only to show how inferior Euripides, or Way, or any 
one is to the Master of that particular form. Way has 
thought enough of it to use it in other plays; e. g. Iph. 
Aul. 1279 ff.; Alcestis, chor. 112 ff.; 912 ff. etc. 

Hippolytus, while being borne to his father's house, 
directs his thralls how to carry him, and cries aloud in 
his agony. Meleager, in thirteen stanzas, each of which 
is answered by the chorus, or Oeneus, or Atalanta, reviews 
his past life. Althaea sits by in grim silence, the incarna- 
tion of Fate. Swinburne's treatment is marvelous in its 
dignity, elegance and poetic beauty. Hippolytus repeats 
the reproach against his father; 

Woe, woe for a son 
By the doom of his sire 
All marred and undone, 
Through my head leapeth fire 
Of agony flashes, and throbbeth my brain like a hard-smitten lyre. 

Meleager has more self-control: 

Let your hands meet 
Round the weight of my head ; 
Lift ye my feet 
As the feet of the dead; 
For the flesh of my bodv is molten, the limbs of it molten as lead. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon unci Erechtheus 65 

In this is a little of Phaedra's appeal: 

Uplift ye my body, mine head upraise, 

Friends, faint be my limbs, and unknit be their bands, 

Hold, maidens, my rounded arms and my hands. 

The pain and suffering of Hippoly tus seems very real : 

For gods' sake, bear 
Me gently each thrall; 
Thou to right have a care, 
Soft let your hands fall; 
Tenderly bear the sore mangled, onstepping in tune, one and all, 

The unhappy onbearing 
And cursed, I ween, 

(then referring his own innocence to Zeus, he regards 
himself as Virtue abused) 

Of his father's own erring 
Ah Zeus, hast thou seen? 
Innocent I, ever fearing the gods, who was wholly heart-clean. 



ERECHTHEUS 



Swinburne chose for the motto of the Erechtheus two 
verses from Pindar, f r. 47 : 

co ral \iirapai ical ioarkipavot. not boldiftoi, 

"EXXASa* iptiana, KKtival 'Adavai, baipoviov irTo\Ledpoi>. 

and two from Aeschylus, Persae, 241 f. 

Aroaco. tis Be Troipavup eirecm Ka.Tride<nr6£et arparov ', 
Xopos. ovtivos 8ov\oi KkKXrjvrai (fiords ov8' virrjKooi. 









One expresses his appreciation of the wealth and splendor 
of the ancient city, while the other states the character- 
istic attitude of the Athenian toward his native land. 
This theme of devotion to native land recurs in many 
places in the works of Swinburne, throughout his entire 
career. 

Structure 

1. Prologue 1- 94 

2. Parodos 95-238 

3. First Episode 239- 348 

4. First Stasimon 349- 360 

5. Second Episode 361- 554 

6. Second Stasimon 555- 640 

7. Third Episode 641- 753 

8. Third Stasimon, with Kommos 754- 889 

9. Fourth Episode 890-1074 

10. Fourth Stasimon, with Kommos 1076-1190 

11. Fifth Episode 1191-1240 

12. Fifth Stasimon 1241-1252 

13. Sixth Episode 1253-1282 

14. Sixth Stasimon, with Kommos 1283-1483 

15. Seventh Episode 1484-1623 

16. Seventh Stasimon 1624-1643 

17. Exodos 1644-1760 



66 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 67 

Prologue 

The prologue of the Erechtheus is a monologue like 
that of the Atalanta. It is longer, however, by thirty 
lines, and, so, nearly three times the length of that of the 
Agamemnon. It gives about as much direct information 
as we find in an Aeschylean prologue, but it is not at all 
Aeschylean in its method. Structurally it is very complex, 
and abounds in subtle allusion. No extant Greek prologue 
reveals half the erudition. We are told that Athens is 
threatened with destruction. The king laments that the 
oracle demands the sacrifice of his child to save the ship 
of state from the rocks. (Aeschylean figure; see Sep tern, 
Iff.) He prays his mother (Earth) to strengthen the 
city. 

Lines 1-22 resemble an Euripidean genealogy, referring 
to the king in eight different aspects, rather than to eight- 
different characters, as might have been the case in 
Euripides. Erechtheus calls Earth's attention to himself; 
behold me, thy son, men-crowned, thy child, fosterling 
of Pallas, reared in her shade, hallowing her fame in feasts, 
first to tame steeds, the king. Lines 23-43 are full of 
Euripidean sentimentality. After line 43 the emotion 
becomes more intense. His cry is for help; save thou our 
city. The cry of Eteocles, in the Septem of Aeschylus, is 
to the people of the city of Cadmus; 'save your common 
mother earth, for it was she, when you walked as children 
on her kindly soil, brought you up to be her colonists and 
trusty champions, that you might become such for an 
emergency like this.' One calls to the earth for help; the 
other asks help for the Earth. As Swinburne himself has 
disclaimed all Euripidean influence, and declared his play 
an imitation of the earlier style of Aeschylus, if of any- 
thing, and as some of his most important critics accept 



68 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

this as a statement of fact, let us see how it applies to the 
Septem, the prologue of which lies under the same im- 
pending cloud of calamity. Thebes is threatened on 
land, Athens, from the sea. In each case the king speaks 
the prologue. Both use the 'ship of state' figure. Erech- 
theus calls on Earth and asks why the gods are against 
him. Eteocles trusts in the defense of his army. They 
must save their altars and their children and their mother 
earth. The gods have been favorable up to this time; 
there is no reason to fear a change of attitude on their 
part. Haste to the battlements, man the parapets. 
Aeschylus emphasizes the importance of the state and 
minimizes that of the king; Swinburne emphasizes the 
anxiety of a king who has been interrupted in the exercise 
of his sovereignty. He is quite sure of his dignity and his 
divine associations and has decked them with Pindaric 
splendor. The pomp and verbosity is more than Aeschy- 
lean; and there is added a certain loud-voiced, high- 
pitched wordiness, which is Swinburne at his worst. 

Erechtheus 

The theme of the Erechtheus is the sacrifice of a maiden 
at the command of a god. The plot is based on that of 
the lost Erechtheus of Euripides, three of whose extant 
dramas deal with a similar subject. 'Macaria dies to 
save the race of the Heracleidae; Iphigeneia, to prosper 
the cause of the Greek fleet; Alcestis, to save the life of 
her husband. In each of these three cases a divine voice 
had declared that some one must die; in each, the heroine 
required was purely passive; and in each a definite gain 
was promised. (See Jebb, Antigone, Intr. xxxiv.) 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 69 

Such is the situation in Swinburne's Erechtheus. 
Thus he explains the case to his queen: 

The word that journeying to the bright God's shrine 
Who speaks askance and darkling, but his name 
Hath in it slaying and ruin broad writ out, 
I heard, hear thou: thus saith he; There shall die 
One soul for all this people; from thy womb 
Came forth the seed that here on dry bare ground 
Death's hand must sow untimely, to bring forth 
Nor blade nor shoot in season, being by name 
To the under Gods made holy, who require 
For this land's life her death and maiden blood 
To save a maiden city. 

Euripides records Agamemnon's statement thus: 

Now when the gathered host together came, 
At Aulis did we tarry weather-bound. 
Then the seer Calchas bade in our despair 
Slay Iphegeneia, her whom I begat, 
To Artemis who dwelleth in this land; 
So should we voyage, and so Phrygia smite; 
But if we slew her not, it should not be. 

In the chorus of the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, 150 ff. 
we have a reference to the same sacrifice, and again in 
200, where the word $ic\ay%ov is used of the declaration 
of Calchas. This Swinburne seems to have had in mind 
when he wrote, in reference to the prophecy cited above: 
If this ring worse I know not; strange it rang. 

In the Heracleidae, where the salvation of Athens is at 

stake, as in the Erechtheus, Iolaus refers to the oracle 

thus: 

488 ff. 

For oracle-chanters, saith the king, proclaim 
That he must bid to slay nor bull nor calf. 



7() Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

But a maid, daughter of a high-born sire, 
If we, if Athens must not cease to be. 
This then is our despair: the king refuseth 
To slay his own or any other child, 
And saith to me, — albeit not in words, — 
Except we find for this some remedy, 
We must needs forth and seek another land; 
But his own land he cannot choose but save. 

Macaria's first speech is very similar in tone to Chthonia's. 

They both come out and address the chorus, and both 

offer a modest apology for intruding. Eur. Heracleidae, 

474 ff. 

Strangers, impute not for my coming forth 
Boldness to me; this is my first request; 
Since for a woman silence and discretion 
Be fairest, and still tarrying in the home. 
But Iolaus, I heard thy moans and came, — 
Though I be not ordained mine house's head: 
Yet in some sort it fits me, for I love 
These brothers more than all: yea, mine own fate 
Fain would I learn, — lest to the former ills 
Some new pang added now torments thy soul. 

At the cry of the chorus Chthonia also enters. 

Forth of the fine-spun folds of veils that hide 

My virgin chamber toward the full-faced sun 

I set my foot and moved of mine own will, 

Unmaiden-like, nor with unprompted speed 

Turn eyes too broad or doglike unabashed 

On reverend heads of men and thence on thine, 

Mother, now covered from the light and bowed 

As hers who mourns her brethren; but what grief 

Bends thy blind head thus earthward, holds thee mute, 

I know not till thy will be to lift up 

Toward mine thy sorrow-muffled eyes and speak; 

And till thy will be would I know not this. 









Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 71 

In both cases the speaker comes out and addresses first 
the chorus, and then a character who has been discussing 
a mournful subject with the chorus. In Chthonia's 
speech there is, at its close, a slight parallel to Aesch. Ag. 
1048 f. where the chorus addressed Cassandra: 

Thou taken in the hunting net of chance 

Shouldst hearken if thou wouldst; perchance thou'lt not. 

Macaria accepts her fate at once; she offers herself a 
willing victim; Chthonia makes no direct reply, but after 
two stasimons and an episode she laments her fate in a 
kommos, after which she takes a very elaborate leave. 
Her last words are addressed to Earth, her father's mother. 
She goes, 

A silent soul led of a silent God 

Toward sightless things led sightless. 

Macaria too takes leave of Iolaus, giving some practical 
advice as to his future conduct. She does drop for a 
moment into a pathetic strain, calling attention to her 
maiden death. 

Thou seest how my bloom of spousal-tide 
I yield up in the stead of these to die. 

I have failed you naught, 

Have stood your champion, for mine house have died. 
My treasure this shall be, for babes unborn, 
Spousals foregone; 

Her last thought is on the question of future life. 

if in the grave aught be: 
But ah that naught might be! for if there too 
We mortals who must die shall yet have cares, 
I know not whither one shall turn; since death 
For sorrows is accounted chief est balm. 



72 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

In both plays a battle is the deciding factor. Swin- 
burne is much more brilliant and spectacular, but Euripi- 
des is not without his prodigies. He gives us an example 
of an old man made young and showing deeds of prowess 
far beyond his age. He also gave Swinburne a hint for 
several of his fine lines. The battle grows in fury: 

Anon foot stood in grapple locked with foot, 

Man fronting man, hard-wrestling in the fray. (Her. 830 i.) 

So Swinburne speaks of the limbs of the contestants 

To be locked as in wrestle together, and lighten 
With fire that shall darken thy fire in the sky, 
Body to body and eye against eye 
In a war against kind. 

The sacrifice of the maiden is pictured very strikingly 
in the Iphigeneia and the picture is not without its 
influence on Swinburne, although he wilfully kept 
Aeschylus' version in mind. Both Chthonia and Iphi- 
geneia sing a lament in anticipation of death. Chthonia's 
is in kommos form and is in its structure somewhat like 
the lament of Antigone. Iphigeneia sings first of the 
fatal judgment of Paris, then laments her own end. The 
passage is one of great beauty. In the dialogue that 
follows, she suddenly experiences a change of heart; she 
wishes to die for her country, and she wishes to thrust 
aside cowardly thoughts and die gloriously. All Greece 
looks to her; she alone can bestow the boon of the sailing 
of the ships, and the overthrow of Phrygia and safety 
for the years to come. 

All this great deliverance I in death shall compass, and my name 
As one who gave to Hellas freedom shall be blessing-crowned. 

. My body unto Hellas I resign. 
Sacrifice me, raze ye Troy; for this through all the ages is 
My memorial; children, marriage, glory — all are mine in this. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 73 

So Chthonia to her mother: 

Thou brought'st me forth a savior who shall save 
Athens; for none but I from none but thee 
Shall take this death for garland; and the men 
Mine unknown children of unsounded years, 
My sons unrisen shall rise up at thine hand, 
And call thee most of all most fruitful found 
Blessed; but me too for my barren womb 
More than my sisters for their children born 
Shall these give honor; yea, in scorn's own place 
Shall men set love and bring for mockery praise 
And thanks for curese; 

Chthonia's lyrical farewell, "I lift up mine eyes from the 
skirts of the shadow," is a farewell to Athens, built on a 
web of mythological allusion. Like all the lyrics in the 
play, it is technically perfect, but is somewhat cold and 
unconvincing; when we reach the conclusion, 'I go to my 
death,' we are more inclined to hope that she will attain 
her goal, than to give her of our sympathy, she has 
spoken so many farewells! Turning to the Iphigeneia 
we find about the same conditions. There is rhesis, 
stichomythia, triumphal procession, closing with the 
last words of the victim; a cry to Mycenae: 

For a light unto Hellas thou fosteredst me. 
And I die— O freely I die for thee. 

Hail, light divine! 

Hail day, in whose hands doth the world's torch shine! 

In a strange new life must I dwell, 

And a strange new lot must be mine. 

Farewell, dear light, farewell. 

At the sacrifice Swinburne paints a very roseate picture 
of the victim, trembling with pride in pleasure, proud 
because she was not pale with fear. 



74 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Her cheeks lightened and brighter than a bridal veil 
Her hair enrobed her bosom and enrolled 
From face to feet the body's whole soft length 
As with a cloud sun-saturate: 

Euripides paints no pre-sacrificial picture. The messenger 
reports that Agamemnon groaned at the sight of his child, 
who approached and addressed him as follows: 

My father, at thine hest I come 
And for my country's sake my body give 
And for all Hellas, to be led of you 
Unto the goddess' altar willingly, 
And sacrificed, if this is Heaven's decree. 
Prosper, so far as rests with me and win 
Victory, and return to fatherland. 
Then let no Argive lay a hand on me : 
Silent, unflinching will I yield my neck. 

Chthonia also spoke, not to her father, but to her country- 
men, 

With maiden tongue words manlike, but her eyes 

Lit mildly like a maiden's: Countrymen, 

With more goodwill and height of happier heart 

I give me to you than my mother bare, 

And go more gladly this great way to death 

Than young men bound for battle. Then with face 

Turned to the shadowiest part of all the shrine 

And eyes fast set upon the further shade, 

Take me, dear gods; and as some form had shone 

From the deep hollow shadow, some god's tongue 

Answered, I bless you that your guardian grace 

Gives me to guard this country, takes my blood, 

Your child's by name, to heal it. 

In the Agamemnon the story of the sacrifice is told by the 
chorus (228-47) 

Her prayers and cries her father's ears that sought, 
Her maiden bloom they heedless set at naught, 






Swinburne *s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 75 

Those war-enraptured judges gathered there. 

Her father bade the attendants after prayer 

The maiden drooping prone to quick upraise 

Even as a kid above the altar blaze, 

Her robes about her spread, and with a guard 

Of her sweet lips within to compass hard 

By force of bonds and might that muffles thought 

Her voice with curses for the palace fraught. 

And she to earth her saffron robe let fall 
And smote her very slayers one and all 
With piteous eyes that cast out pity's darts 
To strike in vain those cold unpitying hearts, 
Clearer than in a picture, fain to speak, etc. 



The chorus saw no more; it was not a picture to paint too 
clearly to the audience. In the Iphigeneia the priest 
makes his preparations for the sacrifice, 

Laid down a keen knife which his hand had drawn 
Out of its sheath, then crowned the maiden's head. 

Then Peleus' son cried: 

Zeus' daughter, slayer of wild beasts, 
Whose wheels of light roll splendors through the gloom — 
(Cf. Sw. One day more I see the world's of the circling sun 
Roll up rejoicing to regard on earth 
This one thing goodliest.) 

But the sacrifice is interrupted; the maiden has dis- 
appeared. Swinburne, however, carries it on to the bitter 
end. 

Then the priest 
Set to the flower-sweet snow of her soft throat 
The sheer knife's edge that severed it, and loosed 
From the fair bondage of so spotless flesh 
So strong a spirit; and all that girt them round 
Gazing, with souls that hung on that sad stroke, 
Groaned, and kept silence after while a man 



76 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Might count how far the fresh blood crept, and bathed 
How deep the dark robe's and the bright shrine's base 
Red-rounded with a running ring that grew 
More large and duskier as the wells that fed 
Were drained of that pure effluence; 

In Lucretius we find an account of the same sacrifice. 

Soon as the fillet encircling her maiden tresses shed itself in equal 
lengths adown each cheek, and soon as she saw her father standing 
sorrowful before the altars and beside him the ministering priests, 
hiding the knife and her countrymen at sight of her shedding tears, 
speechless in terror she dropped down on her knees and sank to the 
ground. Nor aught in such a moment could it avail the luckless girl 
that she had first bestowed the name of father on the king. For lifted 
up in the arms of the men she was carried shivering to the altars, not 
after due performance of the customary rites to be escorted by the 
clear-ringing bridal song, but in the very season of marriage, stainless 
maid mid the stain of blood, to fall a sad victim to the sacrificing stroke 
of a father, that thus a happy and prosperous departure might be granted 
to the fleet. So great are the evils to which religion could prompt. 

Lucretius' view is contemptuous, Swinburne's ecstatic, 
Aeschylus' pathetic, and Euripides' melodramatic. Each 
has manipulated the same material in his own way. It 
might be interesting to compare Tennyson's effort: 

I was cut off from hope in that sad place. 
Which men called Aulis in those iron years; 
My father held his hand upon his face; 
I, blinded with my tears. 

Still strove to speak; my voice was thick with signs 
As in a dream; dimly I could descry 
The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes 
Waiting to see me die. 

The high masts flickered as they lay afloat 
The crowds, the temples, wavered, and the shore; 
The bright death quivered at the victim's throat; 
Touched; and T knew no more. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 77 

The Characters 

Erechtheus may be viewed in four lights; as king, 
warrior, husband, father. He appears as king in the 
prologue, appealing to his mother Earth for information 
as to the cause of the plague just fallen upon his state. 
He speaks with ostentatious pride of his ancestry, pictures 
his land in loving terms, glances at the impending ruin, 
and puns in true Greek manner on the name of his foe. 
He speaks with reverence of the gods who have sent upon 
him for some dark reason, 'the confluent surge of loud 
calamities.' His prayer closes with an appeal for help. 

As a warrior, his interview with the herald shows 
him ready and confident. He speaks no word of tempor- 
izing, no haggling about terms; he will fight, and die or 
live, as his lot lies on the lap of the unknown hour. He has 
had divine information that he is to win and die, and he 
is in accord with his fate. The report of the Athenian 
herald makes him a successful leader who attained a 
heroic and supernatural end. 

The attitude of Erechtheus to Praxithea is very 
unusual for a Greek play. His language is all love and 
admiration; he has found her from all times wise and 
perfect of heart. Moreover, he has found her free from 
hybris in prosperity, a condition of heart he implies to be 
exceptional, so that now when sorrow has come upon him 
he dreads to shock her with its weight. He tries the tem- 
per of her fortitude by considerable riddling speech, and 
closes by offering her a choice of evils, the culmination 
of which is death. 

but we for all our good things, we 
Have at their hands (the gods') which fill all these folk full 
Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, 
Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; which of these, 
Which wilt thou first give thanks for? all are thine. 



78 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Having satisfied himself of her fortitude, he relates the 
oracle of Apollo. She does not disappoint him, but shows 
herself to be a strong and sympathetic character. In fact 
Swinburne has succeeded in doing the unusual in portray- 
ing two strong and admirable characters in perfect accord. 
Both recognize the might of Necessity and seek no escape; 
both feel the injustice of Fate, while recognizing the im- 
portance of their sacrifice for the safety of their city. 
The daughter, too, accepts her doom without a protest. 
The crisis has swooped suddenly upon them all, and they 
have met it unhesitatingly and with clear discernment. 
In the Iphigeneia at Aulis the situation is somewhat 
different. The host has been long detained, and finally 
Calchas has proclaimed the price the gods demand for 
sailing. Agamemnon, somewhat craven and fearing 
overmuch the host (cf. 1. 1012), has sent for his daughter 
with the alleged purpose of giving her in marriage to 
Achilles. His duplicity merits all the scorn poured upon 
him by his outraged wife. But Iphigeneia, after prayers 
and tears and lamentations, by a sudden change of heart 
expresses a willingness to die, and thus brings about a 
reconciliation. Swinburne's characters are more admir- 
able; Euripides', more human. The turbulent English 
poet has given us a pair of Philosophers who curb their 
own hearts because they recognize the necessity at once; 
the Greek sophist has given us two human beings who 
bluster and rail in a very human way at the slings and 
arrows of fortune, to fall before them in the end. 

As a father, Erechtheus is not very well drawn. He 
does not greet his daughter throughout the play, and his 
chief concern for her seems to be on his wife's account. On 
the other hand, some of the finest touches in the Iphigeneia 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 79 

come in the scenes where father and daughter appear. 
Her appeal to him is very childlike and pathetic. 1221 ff. 

Sweet is light: Constrain me not to see the nether gloom. 

'Twas I first called thee father, thou me child. 

'Twas I first throned my body on thy knees, 

And gave thee sweet caresses and received. 

And this thy word was; Ah, my little maid, 

Blest shall I see thee in a husband's halls 

Living and blooming worthily of me? 

And as I twined my fingers in thy beard, 

Whereto I now cling, thus I answered thee; etc. 

Agamemnon makes clear the necessity of his case. 
1255 ff. 

I know what asketh pity, what doth not, 
Who love mine own babes I were madman else. 
Awful it is, wife, to dare this deed, 
Yet awful to forbear. I must do this! 
Mark ye yon countless host with galleys fenced, 
And all the brazen-harnessed Hellend kings, 
Who cannot voyage unto Ilium's towers, 
Who cannot raze Troy's citadel renowned, 
But by thy blood, as Calchas saith, the seer. 
A fiery passion maddeneth Hellas' host 
To sail in all haste to the aliens' land 
And put an end to rapes of Hellene wives. 
My daughters will they slay in Argos, — you 
And me. — if I annul the Goddess' hest. 
Not Menelaus hath enslaved me, child, 
Nor yet to serve his pleasure have I come. 
'Tis Hellas for whom, — will I, will I not — 
I must slay thee: this cannot we withstand. 
Free must she be, so far as in thee lies, 
And me, child; nor by aliens' violence 
Must sons of Hellas of their wives be spoiled. 

His case is clear: the gods have exacted a price for the 
overthrow of Ilium. This price Agamemnon is not willing 



80 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

to pay, for it concerns him too personally. But his fellow- 
chieftains, less interested in the price, and more interested 
in the profit, insist on payment. With Erechtheus the 
case is different. The god set the price of ransoming the 
city in such a way that the royal family must perish in 
either alternative. Chthonia must be sacrificed and the 
king must fall in battle to insure the safety of the city, the 
destruction of which meant the ruin of every one. And 
perhaps it is just as well that a father take no leave of his 
daughter at whose sacrifice he will later be the presiding 
officer. 

Erechtheus, under provocation, assumes a temper 
toward the gods similar to Althaea's, with this difference, 
however, that it is under better control. He draws a 
sharp distinction between the joy of the citizens in the 
safety of their state, and their praise of the gods for the 
sparing of their lives, and his own situation: 

To these they give 
Life of their children, flower of all their seed, 
For all their travail fruit, for all their hopes 
Harvest; but we, for all our good things, we 
Have at their hands which fill all these folk full 
Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, 
Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; 

He graces Apollo with all his epithets, but reserves his 
praise. He accepts the grim situation because 

save this 
Xo word is left us and no hope alive. 

To the herald of Eumolpus he recognizes the omnipotence 
of the gods; of their wisdom or loving-kindness he says 
nothing. A grim character, his language is very com- 
pressed; he says much more in brief space than is the wont 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 81 

of Swinburne's characters. He is stronger than the 
Aeschylean Agamemnon, who also put on the yoke of 
necessity and became the slayer of his child. Both have 
to submit to the divine decree, in regard to the justice of 
which both are in the dark. Agamemnon found it hard 
to sacrifice his daughter, but harder to become a \iiropavs ; 
the word is very strong: so of the two evils he chose what 
seemed the lesser, and offered his child to the malice of 
stubborn winds. 



PRAXITHEA 

Praxithea is a woman worthy of the love and respect 
of her royal husband. She is brave, dutiful, submissive, 
and self-sacrificing. In her first speech she sums up in 
brief her entire philosophy of life. At the king's hint of 
bloodshed, she offers herself at once as the victim. Her 
heart is all for her land. "Firm let it stand, whatever 
bleed or fall." In her treatment of her daughter, she is 
very tender, displaying the attitude of the best women in 
Greek drama, which seems to have been more fond and 
intimate than that of the women of modern liter- 
ature. To deaden the shock of her hard lot, she 
brings forward and emphasizes the idea of "motherland," 
which is worth all and more than they will lose in the 
sacrifice. But Swinburne could not save her from the 
long rhesis calling the gods to witness her ills, and showing 
her great antiquarian knowledge and her familiarity 
with the institutions of gods and men. She closes with 
a childhood picture in true Euripidean-Swinburnian 
manner. It seems to be the peculiarity of both these 
writers to put such speeches in the mouths of women; 
they make them the fountains of diverse information 
and the fountain-heads of tears. Swinburne has con- 
demned rather bitterly the long fragment of Euripides, 
on which he based this rhesis, but it is doubtful if he has 
given us a startling example of superiority, as he implies. 
(See E. Gosse, Swinburne, p. 231.) The massing of fable 
and folk lore and reminiscences from almost every Greek 

82 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 83 

writer that one would meet in a long period of time, does 
not make easy reading, and to many smacks somewhat of 
a handbook. That is the impression one, familiar with 
such things, might get. If unfamiliar, he is apt to be 
overwhelmed, and wonder what it is all about. Even 
the experienced Greek scholar is in danger of being 
dazzled and confused by the kaleidoscopic changes from 
reminiscences of one author to those of another. 

In Praxithea's speech of farewell to her daughter, she 
comments on the gods in Euripidean fashion. She is 
innocent of wrong-doing; she has suffered much and for 
many causes; and she has merited none of it. But she 
will hold her peace. After she has shown that from the 
heartless gods no help comes, her speech is a fine piece of 
Euripidean tenderness and pathos. The picture of the 
babe is one of the finest ever drawn. For the sake of her 
people she gives her child to 

Death and the under Gods who crave 
So much for what they give. 

She sets aside, however, her personal loss for the sake of 
her country. Her sacrifice wrests from ruin the power 
to take hold on Athens. When one loves the life of 

child, wife, father, friend, 
Son, husband, mother, more than this, even there 
Are all these lives worth nothing, all loves else 
With love slain and buried, and their tomb 
A thing for shame to spit on; for what love 
Hath a slave heart to love with? or the heart 
Base-born and bound in bondage fast to fear, 
What should it do to love thee? what hath he, 
The man that hath no country? Gods nor men 
Have such to friend, yoked beast-like to base life, 



84 Swinburne's Atalania in Calydon and ErechtheUs 

Vile, fruitless, groveling at the foot of death, 
Landless and kinless thralls of no man's blood, 
Unchilded and unmothered, abject limbs 
That breed things abject; but who loves on earth 
Not friend, wife, husband, father, mother, child, 
Nor loves his own life for his own land's sake. 
But only this thing most, more this than all. 
He loves all well and well of all is loved, 
And this love lives forever. 

To slavery Swinburne has taken a somewhat scornful 
attitude. The Greeks regarded it with more pathos, 
especially when it was a question of their own country. 

When the herald comes to report on the battle, she 
greets him with an eagerness that is mingled with fierce- 
ness. 

Man, what thy mother bare thee born to say 

Speak ; for no word yet wavering on thy lip 

Can wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear. 

On learning the fate of her husband and the city she 
praises the gods of Athens and prays for death. Her 
isolation is complete; she has nothing to live for. 

Be thou, 
Dear God and gracious to all souls alive, 
Good to thine own seed also; let me sleep, 
Father: my sleepless darkling day is done, 
My day of life like night, but slumberless: 
For all my fresh fair springs, and his that ran 
In one stream's bed with mine, are all run out 
Into the deep of death. The Gods have saved 
Athens; my blood has bought her at their hand, 
And ye sit safe; be glorious and be glad 
As now for all time always, countrymen. 
And love my dead forever; but me, me, 
What shall man give for these so good as death? 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 85 

Parodos 

Swinburne has not used an Aeschylean motivation 
for his parodos in the Erechtheus; in fact there seems to 
be none. This chorus is but the echo of the prologue, 
Erechtheus has just prayed to Earth for help; 

Though all our house die for this people's sake, 
Keep thou for ours thy crown our city, guard 
And give it life the lovelier that we died. 

Thereupon the chorus, on a higher plane, to the greater 
gods, makes the same supplication, — to the gods whose 
interests have been before at stake, Pallas and Poseidon. 
Then the contest between this god and goddess for the 
naming of the fair city is reviewed, and the fair city is 
named and characterized in a very remarkable passage of 
fourteen lines based on Aeschylean and Pindaric reminis- 
cences. He weaves in both quotations that serve as 
mottoes for the play. 

The fruitful anointed immortal adored 

Dear city of men without master or lord, 

Fair fortress and fostress of sons born free, 

Who stand in her sight and in thine, O sun, 

Slaves of no man, subject to none; 

A wonder enthroned on the hills and sea, 

A maiden crowned with a fourfold glory 

That none from the pride of her head may rend, 

Violet and olive-leaf purple and hoary, 

Song-wreath and story the fairest of fame, 

Flowers that the winter can blast not or bend; 

A light upon earth as the sun's own flame, 

A name as his name, 

Athens, a praise without end. 



86 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthmts 

Now this fair territory is in danger of being encroached 

upon ; 

For the sea-marks set to divide of old 

The kingdoms to Ocean and Earth assigned, 

The hoar sea-fields from the cornfields' gold, 

His wine-bright waves from her vineyards' fold. 

Frail forces we find 

To bridle the spirit of Gods or bind 

Till the heat of their hearts wax cold. 

Cf. Horace, O. 1; 3; 21 ff. 

Nequiquam deus abscidit 
Prudens oceano dissociabili 
terras — 

Ovid, Met. 1, 21 Nam caelo terras et terris abscidit undas. 
Swinburne has added the Homeric touch in the "hoar 
sea-fields" and "his wine-bright waves." The figure of 
the 'bridle 1 is frequent in Aeshcylus, though it is not 
applied to the mouth of any god. We find the same 
figure in the first line of the third stasimon: 

Who shall put a bridle in the mourner's lips to chasten them, 
Or seal up the fountains of his tears for shame? 

The violet is a favorite flower in Greek, and is used for 
many purposes. See Pindar, fr. 47; 75, 7; 75, 18; Aristoph. 
Eq. 1329; Achar. 636; For the hoary olive, see Soph. O. C. 
701; Pin. 0.3, 13; 

From the strife of Athena and Poseidon the chorus 
turns to a new strife arisen on the city; a sound of battle 
come up from the sea. 

Strange hunters are hard on us, hearts without pity; 
They have staked their nets round the fair young city, 
That the sons of her strength and her virgin daughters 
Should find not whither alive to flee. 






Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 87 

These hunters follow on the unseen track of oar-blades 
after Paris, Ag. 695; they cast a close-wrought net over 
the towers of Troy, Ag. 358; and they throw a net of 
slavery over the inhabitants, Ag. 361. 

From the navel of earth and the veiled mid-altar 
We wait for a token with hopes that falter, 

"The navel of earth" occurs in Aesch. Eum. 40 and 166; 
also in Pindar, N. 7, 33. For an interesting and unusual 
account of the birth of Pallas, see Hesiod, Theog. Also 
Pin. O, 7, 36; and fr. 34, 9. 

Swinburne closes the chorus with a double myth, in 
the manner of Euripides, but particularly applicable 
here because of the relation of the maidens carried away, 
to Erechtheus. The story of Orithyia is told in Ovid., 
Met. VI; and Procris, in Met. VII. 

For the third wave signifying the culmination of 
calamity, see Aes. Pr. 1015. Swinburne uses the ex- 
pression again in The Triumph of Time: 

It is not much that a man can save 
On the sands of life, in the straits of time, 
Who swims in sight of the great third wave 
That never a swimmer shall cross or climb. 

Orithyia and Procris were gone; now there is danger of 
losing Chthonia. 

Chthonia mentions the rape of her sister: 

From the bloom of whose banks as a prey 
Winds carried my sister away; 

and later the chorus speaks of it again: 

O strong north wind, the pilot of cloud and rain, 

For the gift that we gave thee what gift hast thou given us again? 

O god dark-winged, deep-throated, a terror to forth-faring ships by night, 

What bride-song is this that is blown on the blast of thy breath? 



88 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

There is much in the second part of this chorus that 
suggests the parodos of the Septem. There is this differ- 
ence, however; the chorus in that play is composed of 
women who are thoroughly terrified, while the chorus of 
elders in the Erechtheus are inclined to be fault-finding. 
Theirs is not the Aeschylean theme that sin calls for 
sorrow; they ask what they have done, and suggest thai 
the god has done enough. The genealogy of Pallas, 

O thou not born of the womb or bred 
In the bride-night's warmth of a changed god's bed, 
But thy life as the lightning was flashed from the light of thy father's 

[head, 
O chief god's child by a motherless birth, 

is reminiscent of the prologues of Euripides. Aeschylus, 
however, makes use of the same literary device. See 
Septem, 128 f.; 123-5. 

There is no motivation for the episode that follows; 
the chorus finishes its prayer and the king begins to speak 
of his wife. Nothing could be more unlike the manner of 
Aeschylus. 

First Episode 

In the first episode Erechtheus informs his wife of the 
decree of Apollo. In this scene we get a very fine example 
of the perfect adjustment of the love between husband 
and wife. He tells her he has found her wise, perfect of 
heart, free from insolence in prosperity, and brave in 
adversity, but now 

I fear 
To slay thee timeless with my proper tongue 
With lips, thou knowest, that love thee; and such work 
Was never laid of gods on men, such word 
No mouth of man learnt ever, as from mine 
Most loth to speak thine ear most loth shall take 
And hold it hateful as the grave to hear. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 89 

She convinces him that she can endure the tale, so he 
reveals the oracle. 

The word that journeying to the bright God's shrine (Phoibos) 

Who speaks askance and darkling (Loxias) but his name 

Hath in it slaying and ruin broad writ out (Apollo) 

I heard, hear thou, thus saith he; there shall die 

One soul for all his people; from thy womb 

Came forth the seed that here on dry bare ground 

Death's hand must sow untimely to bring forth 

Nor blade nor shoot in season, being by name 

To the under gods made holy, who require 

For this land's life her death and maiden blood 

To save a maiden city. 

Throughout this scene Swinburne is reminiscent of 
the Alcestis. Praxithea speaks: 

But if thou speak of blood, and I that hear 
Be chosen of all for this land's love to die 
And save to thee thy city, know this well, 
Happiest I hold me of her seed alive. 

So Alcestis, 282 ff. 

Admetus, for thou seest all my plight, 
Fain would I speak mine heart's wish ere I died. 
I, honoring thee and setting thee in place 
Before mine own soul still to see this light, 
Am dying, unconstrained to die for thee. 

There is a fine effect of Aeschylean piling up of sub- 
stantives in 

we, for all our good things, we 
Have at their hands which fill all these folks full, 
Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, 
Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; 



90 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
So in Ag. 

irvoai 8' airb "Ztpvplouos noXovaai 
KaKoaxoKoi, vrjcmSes, 5vaopp.oi, 
fipoT&v &Xat, 

ve&v re Kal TrtHTixaTuiv acpeiSeis, 
ira\ippi)K-q xpbvov Ttdeiaai 
Tpifiu} Kark^aivov Hvdos" Apyois. 

Ag. 192 ft. 

(The blasts from Strymon ever downward hasting, 
Evil-delaying, famine- winged, rope-wasting, 
Wanderings of men, 

Of ships and moorings one and all unsparing, 
And time made ever double for their sharing, 
The flower of Argos wasted to outwearing.) 

In Praxithea's last speech there is an unusual Aeschy- 
lean figure in 

But most for this 1 thank them most of all, 
That this their edge of doom is chosen to pierce 
My heart and not my country's; 

The same figure occurs in Aes. Per. 407; 1060 
The significance of names is shown at the close of Erech- 
theus' last speech; referring to Chthonia, he says: 

— being my name 
To the under gods made holy, who require 
For this land's life her death and maiden blood. 

He closes his speech and leaves the stage clear for the 
stasimon, by saying: 

Thus I heard, 
And thus with all said leave thee; for save this 
No word is left us and no hope alive. 

Praxithea seems to be left on the stage. 



Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 91 

•S&GQXB- STASIMON 

The chorus, at this point, like the chorus in the Septem, 
takes an active interest in the action of the play. It 
comments on the speech of Erechtheus and offers its 
protest to death. We get a reminiscence of the Atalanta 
in "The master that lightens not hearts he enlightens, 
but gives them fore-knowledge of death" Cf. Atalanta, 
357; In his eyes foreknowledge of death. Swinburne often 
repeats in his later poems, giving it an added touch, an 
idea from his earlier work. This is noticeable in Aeschy- 
lus, also; ideas may be found, for example, in the Septem, 
which he repeated in more ample form in the Agamemnon. 

Second Episode 

The second episode is between mother and daughter 
and is Euripidean in its rjdos, showing the strong affection 
and confidence that existed between the two. Erechtheus 
is gone, and so far as we know, does not see his daughter 
again until the sacrifice. Chthonia comes out and greets 
her mother who has remained on the scene during the 
singing of the stasimon. There is a reminiscence of the 
delicacy and fine garments of the Persian women in the 
Persae in 

Forth from the fine spun folds of veils that hide 
My virgin chamber toward the full-faced sun, 

and in her mother's comment to the chorus on her 
daughter's beauty: 

her gait 

How virginal, how soft her speech, her eyes 

How seemly smiling! 

See Aes. Per. 543. 



( )2 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 

The scene between Hecuba and Polyxena has much 
in common with this. She comes out at the sound of her 
mother's bitter lament to ask the cause of her tears. 
Hecuba, 177 ft. Chthonia is Aeschylean in her self- 
control. PI. 

O mother, my mother, what meaneth thy crying? 
What strange dread thing 
Is this that thou heraldest 
That hath scared me. like a bird forth-flying 
On startled wing 
Out of the peace of her nest. 
Dumb are ye all. bowed eyes and tonaueless mouths; 

There is shown the same affection between mother 
and daughter. The latter laments bitterly her sacrifice, 
for she is to be offered to the shade of the man who 
destroyed her city. 

Praxithea tells the chorus how helpless they are; 

Dumb are ye all. bowed eyes and tongueless mouths; 

the same attitude that Atossa took, in her fear of the 
omen. Per. 206, <f6i3u 5' £^07705 earad^v, v?t\ot. The 
maiden hesitates to turn eyes too broad or dog-like, 
unabashed on the chorus and on her mother. This, of 
course, is a distorted Homeric reference, cf. 1, 225; 3, 180. 
Praxithea bids Chthonia take note of all the writing on 
her face 

As of a tablet of a tomb inscribed 

That bears me record. 

At the close of a hundred lines she decides that it is of no 
avail. 

Turn from me, turn thine eyes, 

A little from me; I can bear not yet 

To see if still they smile on mine or no 



Swinburne* 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 93 

Praxithea's long rhesis closes the scene. She has already 
charged the girl to lay up her words in her heart: 

yet I charge thee learn 
And love and lay this up within thine heart, 
Even this my word. 

See Od. 4, 399 f. 

rot 7&p iyoiv epew, av 5' ivl <ppe<rl /SAXXco ofjaiv 

"From the grey, fruitless waters" is a combination of the 
Homeric 

irpbyerov it6vtov yXavtcif . . . daXaaaa 

In this rhesis we get a second rehearsal of the Orithyia- 
Boreas episode; likewise of the strife between Poseidon 
and Athena for the domination of Athens. 

Then we get a well-known figure of reaping. 

as the fields 
Were landward harried from the north with swords 
Aonian, sickles of man-slaughtering edge 
Ground for no hopeful harvest of live grain 
Against us in Boeotia. 

Cf. Hor. O. 4, 14, 31 

primosque et extremos metendo 
Stravit humum sine claude victor. 

Catul. 63, 354 ff. 

Namque velut densas praecerpens messor aristas 
Sole sub ardenti flaventia demetit arva, 
Troiugenum infesto prosternit corpora ferro. 



94 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

See also II. 11, 67 ff.; 19, 221 ff.; Aes. Sup. 637 ff. apol. Arg. 
1380-90. There is a repetition of the 'third time' motif 
from the parodos: 

This third time his wind of wrath has blown 
Right on this people a mightier wave of war, 
Three times more huge a ruin. 

The following is a good example of the use Swinburne 
makes of Euripides' fragments. 

Here never shall the Thracian plant on high 

For ours his father's symbol, nor with wreaths 

A strange folk wreathe it upright set and crowned 

Here where our natural people born behold 

The golden Gorgon of the shield's defence 

That screens their flowering olive, nor strange Gods 

Be graced, and Pallas here have praise no more. 

ov8' avr' eXaas XP 1 * 7 ^*" Tt Topyovos 
rpiatvav bpBr\v araoiv iv 7t6Xoojs /3d0pois 
EdfioXwos ov8k Opq.1- bvaoTptyti X«*>s 
cTeipapourt, IlaXXas 5* ovSanov ri^<rerat. 

Through the rest of the speech appear reminiscences from 
the long speech of Praxithea, preserved in the fragments 
of the Meleager. The exit is motivated by the words: 

Come, therefore, I will make thee fit for death, etc. 

She charges the old men to pray for this land; hence the 
chorus. 

Second Stasimon 

The second episode is an amplification of the rape of 
Orithyia. It has been touched upon already by the 
chorus in the Parodos, and by Praxithea in the rhesis 
just before this stasimon. It serves to forecast the storm 



Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 95 

' of war that is coming upon Athens. This is brought out 
clearly towards the close of the stasimon by antithesis 
between the old woe and the new. Swinburne gets his 
outline and some coloring from Ovid, Met. 6, IX. There 
are fragments of a lost play of Sophocles on the subject. 

Of this hoary-headed woe 
Song made mention long ago. 

There are fewer apparent reminiscences from Greek 
in this song than is usual with Swinburne. We see the 
conventional war chariots, the fawn by night on the hills 
belated, given over for a spoil unto the strong, which 
may be reminiscent of Horace, or of Aesch. fr. 32. The 
maiden's knees beneath her were loosened for fear, as 
sometimes happens in Homer; and the violet and olive 
come in for their share of praise. The ode closes with a 
reference to the new sorrow, which motivates the next 
episode, opened by the ultimatum of the herald of Eumol- 
pus. 

Third Episode 

The speech of the herald is colored with the wit of 
Aristophanes, the irony of Aeschylus and the pathos of 
Homer. The "tongue-fighters, tough of talk and sinewy 
speech," recall the old Marathon fighters that Aristo- 
phanes mentions with pride not unmixed with humor. 
Homer likens such men to grasshoppers that sing their 
song in the sunshine. See II. 3, 149 ff. 

(Elders of the people, sat at the Scaean gates. They had now 
ceased from battle for old age, yet were they right good orators, like 
grasshoppers that in a forest sit upon a tree and utter their lily-like voice; 
even so sat the elders of the Trojans upon the tower.) 



96 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

The tone of the herald is very scathing. 

Old men, gray borderers on the march of death, 
Tongue-fighters, tough of talk and sinewy speech, 
Else nerveless, from no crew of such faint folk 
Whose tongues are stouter than their hands come I 
To bid not you to battle. 

The remainder of the speech, although couched in the 
language of a challenge to single combat, is turned to 
express the enemy's contempt for the men of Athens. 
Such combats occur in the Iliad, and at the gates of 
Thebes. In Euripides, Heracl. 807 ff., Hyllus challenges 
the leader of the invading forces, who declines the honor. 
To reward such cowardice, the gods give him over to old 
Iolaus, who has long outlived his fighting days. The 
"keen-tongued wail" of these old men is transferred from 
the cry of the eagles in Ag. 56. 

The reply of the chorus is just as sharp and more 
coherent. There is a decided Aeschylean bigness of phrase 
in the language, particularly 

short space 
May lessen thy large ignorance and inform 
This insolence with knowledge if there live 
Men earth-begotten of no tenderer thews 
Than knit the great joints of the grim sea's brood 
With hasps of steel together. 

Then in stichomythia fly word-feathered shafts in 
Homeric style, to be checked by the entrance of Erech- 
theus. His greeting is full of Aeschylean pomp and shrill 
wind of speech. 

The herald now repeats his ultimatum in terms of 
Poseidon the earth-shaker. 

The stakes of war are set, 

For land or sea to win by throw and wear; 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 97 
just as in the Septem, 414: 

ipyov 5' iv *c{i/?ots" Ap77s Kptvel. 

or Horace, 0, 2, 1, 6. 
Choose to yield 

Or by that father's sceptre, and the foot 
Whose tramp far off makes tremble for pure fear 
Thy soul-struck mother, (Earth) piercing like a sword 
The immortal womb that bare thee; by the waves 
That no man bridles and that bound thy world, 
And by the winds and storms of all the sea, 
He swears to raze from eyeshot of the sun 
This city named not of his father's name, etc. 

Erechtheus accepts the gage: 

To fight then be it; for if to die or live 
No man but only a God knows this much yet 
Seeing us fare forth, who bear but in our hands 
The weapons not the fortunes of our fight; 
For these now rest as lots that yet undrawn 
Lie in the lap of the unknown hour; 

This is a later amplification of Atalanta, 15 f. 

But for the end, that lies unreached as yet 
Between the hands and on the knees of gods; 

a Homeric commonplace. Then follows another version 
of the freedom theme from Aes. Per. 241, already used in 
the parodos, 1. 138. 

death nor life of mine 
Shall give to death or lordship of strange kings 
The soul of this live city, nor their heel 
Bruise her dear brow discrowned, nor snaffle or goad 
Wound her free mouth nor stain her sanguine side 
Yet masterless of men. 



98 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

For the "snaffle or goad" figure see Aes. Per. 185 ff., 
where Atossa dreams that she saw her son try to drive 
Hellas yoked to a chariot. "She was restive, and with her 
hands tried to tear in pieces the harness of the car, and 
then ran away with it by force, without the bit, and 
snapped the yoke in the middle. And my son was thrown 
out, and his father Darius stood pitying him." Continu- 
ing the metaphor he goes on: 

so bid thy lord 
Learn ere he weep to learn it, and too late 

Gnash teeth that could not fasten on her flesh, 
And foam his life out in dark froth of blood, 

just as Clytemnestra says of Cassandra, Ag. 1065 ff: 

She is mad or under the influence of an evil spirit, — as one who has 
arrived from a city just taken, and has not learned to bear the bit, 
before she foams away her fretfulness in blood. 

Erechtheus is confident; 

though his ranks 
Were more to number than all wildwood leaves 
The wind waves on the hills of all the world, 
Yet should the heart not fail, the head not fall. 

He takes in more territory than Horace; O. 1, 21, 6: 

nemorum coma 
Quaecumque aut gelido prominet Algido 
nigris aut Erymanthi 
cilvis aut viridis Cragi. 

Tell the king to make ready; I am coming. In this 
manner he gives the chorus its entrance. "I go this last 
high way to the end of all." 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 99 

Third Stasimon 

(Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus 
tarn can capitis?) 

The chorus opens with a Greek rhythm that is rather 
unusual in English. 

Who shall put a bridle in the mourner's lips to chasten them 
Or seal up the fountains of his tears for shame? 
Song nor prayer nor prophecy shall slacken tears nor hasten them, 
Till grief be within him as a burnt-out flame. 



We find here 'the rain of eyes that weep'; while in Prome- 
theus, 144 we see a cloud: also, "Death at last for all men 
is a harbor: Anthol. Pal; 7, 452 

kolvos icaai Ai/it)?' AiStjs 

The elaboration is in the modern poetic vein. 

Death at last for all men is a harbor; yet they flee from it 

Set sails to the storm-wind and again to sea; 

Yet for all their labor no whit further shall they be from it, 

Nor longer but wearier shall their life's work be. 

And with anguish of travail until night 

Shall they steer into shipwreck out of sight, 

And with oars that break and shrouds that strain 

Shall they drive whence no ship steers again. 

See, however, the great chorus of Soph. O. C. 1211 ff. 

the long days lay up full many things nearer unto grief than 

joy; but as for thy delights, their place shall know them no more, when 
a man's life hath lapsed beyond the fitting term; and the Deliverer comes 
at the last to all alike,— when the doom of Hades is suddenly revealed, 
without marriage-song or lyre, — or dance,— even Death at the last. — 



100 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

******** and as some cape that fronts the north is lashed on 
every side by the waves of winter, so he also is fiercely lashed evermore 
by the dread troubles that break on him like billows, some from the 
setting of the sun, some from the rising, some in the region of the noon- 
tide beam, some from the gloom-wrapped hills of the North. 

The appeal to Zeus is in the Aeschylean manner: 

King of kings, holiest of holies, and mightiest of might, 

Lord of the lords of thine heaven that are humble in thy sight. 

See also ATHENS, King of kings, holy of holies, blessed 
god 

A"pa% Avclktuv, nanapov naK&pTare Kal Ttkkuv 
TeXetdraTov icpdros, 8X0ie Z«5 

Aes. Sup. 524 

Swinburne is much milder in his expostulation with the 
gods than in the Atalanta. His 'therefore' at the close 
of the citation of the power of god, suggested the 'supreme 
evil' theme; but instead, we get a prayer: "Take off us 
thy burden, and give us not wholly to death." The next 
idea is Greek: 

For lovely is life and the law wherein all things live, 
And gracious the season of each, and the hour of its kind, 
And precious the seed of his life in a wise man's mind. 

cf. Soph. fr. 64 

Then follows the sacrifice of the maiden, which I have 
already discussed. The chorus glorifies Athens and 
laments the maiden going to become the bride of death. 
This part of the chorus is very strongly reminiscent of 
the Antigone. There, 800 ff,, the chorus can not refrain 
from tears at the sight of Antigone passing to the bridal 
chamber where all are laid at rest. Here the chorus 
laments 

To behold thee, O child, of so bitter a birth 

That we counted so sweet, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthens 101 

What way thy steps to what bride-feast tend 
What gift he must give that shall wed thee for token 
If the bridegroom be goodly to greet. 

Chthonia and Antigone greet the chorus in the same 
manner, each calling attention to her wretchedness. 

People, old men of my city, lordly wise and hoar of head, 

I a spouseless bride and crownless but with garlands of the dead, 

From the fruitful light turn silent to my dark unchilded bed. 

So Antigone: 806 ff. 

See me, citizens of my fatherland, setting forth on my last way, 
looking my last on the sunlight that is for me no more; no, Hades who 
gives sleep to all leads me living to Acheron's shore; who have had no 
portion in the chant that brings the bride, nor hath any song been mine 
for the crowning of bridals; whom the lord of the dark lake shall wed. 

The chorus in reply, puns on her name, just as the 
chorus in the Agamemnon puns on the name of Helen. 

Wise of word was he too truly, but with deadlier wisdom wise, 
First who gave thee name from under earth, no breath from upper skies, 
When foredoomed to this day's darkness, their first daylight filled thine 

[eyes. 

Ag. 681 ff. 

Who was he the name conferred 
True in deed and true in word, — 
Was it one we do not see 
Fate-inspired of what must be, 
Ordering his tongue aright? 
Spear-won bride of many a fight 
Helen, in what seemly way 
Ships, men, city, fall her prey. 

In spite of the fact that Chthonia is attended by her 
mother, her isolation seems just as great as Antigone's. 
The next is an echo of Euripides, Iph. Aul. 1502 ff. 

Day to day makes answer, first to last, and life to death; but I 
Born for death's sake die for life's sake, if indeed this be to die, 
This my doom that seals me deathless till the springs of time run dry. 



102 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
Iph. 



Ch. 



For a light unto Hellas thou fosteredst me, 
And I die, O freely I die for thee. 

Yea, for thy glory shall never die. 



Praxithea makes a double pun on the daughter's and 
father's name. 

Dark the name, and dark the gifts they gave thee, child, in childbirth 

[were 
Sprung from him that rent the womb of earth (Erechtheus) a bitter seed 

[to bear, 
Born with groanings of the ground that gave him way to heaven's dear 

[air. 

The chorus consoles her by speaking of her future fame. 

Children shalt thou bear to memory, that to man shall bring forth none; 
Yea, the lordliest that lift eyes and hearts and songs to meet the sun, 
Names to fire men's ears like music till the round world's race be run. 

So of Alcestis the chorus sings. 445 ff. 

For the seven-stringed shell or the paean 
Unharped, shall thy fame be a song, 
When o'er Sparta the moon Carnean 
High rideth the whole night long. 
And in Athens the wealthy and splendid 
Shall thy name on her bards' lips ring; 
Such a theme hast thou left to be blended 
With the lays that they sing. 

See also Iph. Aul. 1398 f. where Iphigeneia says: 

My body unto Hellas I resign. 
Sacrifice me, raze ye Troy; for this through all the ages is 
My memorial; children, marriage, glory — all are mine in this. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calvdon and Erechtheus 103 



Praxithea closes the kommos by saying: 

I thy mother, named of gods that wreak revenge and brand with blame, 
Now for thy love shall be loved as thou, and famous with thy fame, 
While this city's name on earth shall be for earth her mightiest name. 

CI. Iph. Aul. 1440 akaoiaiiai, /car' e/z^ 5' evKXerjs tcrei. 



Fourth Episode 

Chthonia's farewell to her mother is similar to Iphi- 
geneia's speech in Eur. Iph. Aul. 1368-1401. Both are 
reconciled to the idea of death; in fact both rather glory 
in their fate. Euripides is more direct and reasonable. 
Swinburne cannot refrain from his habit of retrospection 
at childhood that is past, and of regret for children that 
were not to be born. There is a long passage in the 
Atalanta where the heroine talks in the same strain. 
Praxithea answers in a speech still longer, which becomes 
heavier and heavier with metaphor. She touches again 
upon the rape of Oreithyia, who was borne 

Beyond the wild ways of the unwandered world 
And loud wastes of the thunder-throated sea, 
Springs of the night and openings of the heaven, 
The old garden of the sun; 

Cf. Soph. fr. Oreithyia: 

virtp re kovtov ko.vt «r' e<rx aTa X^ ov ^ 
pvktos T€ ir?j7as ovpavov t' auairrvxas, 
$oi(3ov TraXaiov ktjttov 

The chorus speaks to Chthonia just as the chorus 
speaks to Antigone: and under similar conditions. 

O woefullest of women, yet of all 

Happiest, thy word be hallowed; in all time 

Thy name shall blossom, and from strange new tongues 



104 Swinburne's Atalania in Calydon and Erechtheus 

High things be spoken of thee; for such grace 
The gods have dealt to no man, that on none 
Have laid so heavy sorrow. From this day 
Live thou assured of godhead in thy blood 
And in thy fate no lowlier than a god 
In all good things and evil; such a name 
Shall be thy child this city's, and thine own 
Xext hers that called it Athens. Go now forth 
Blest, and grace with thee to the doors of death. 

Soph. Ant. 817 ff. 

Glorious, therefore, and with praise, thou departest to the deep 
place of the dead; wasting sickness hath not smitten thee; thou hast not 
found the wages of the sword; no, mistress of thine own fate, and still 
alive, thou shalt pass to Hades, as no other of mortal kind hath past. 

Chthonia's lyrical farewell to her country is much like 
that of Iphigeneia at Aulis, 1474 ff. She puts on the 
garlands of sacrifice, greets Artemis, her mother, Pelasgia, 
Mycenae, and closes with a farewell to the light: 

Hail, light divine! 
Hail, day, in whose hands doth the World's Torch shine! 
In a strange new life must I dwell 
And a strange new lot must be mine. 
Farewell, dear light, farewell. 

Fourth Stasimon 

The episode closes with Chthonia's last words: I go 
to my death. Her mother bade her farewell about sixty 
lines back, but whether she left the stage or has waited 
to accompany Chthonia, we do not know. The chorus, 
that has listened to many lines in glorification of love of 
native land, begins softly, quasi improvisando, to treat 
the same theme, love: 

Many loves of many a mood and many a kind 
Fill the life of man and mould the secret mind; 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 105 

After various modulations we come to the love of Mother 
Earth, and city chosen, and natural land, and hills and 
streams and heaven: 

Fields aflower with winds and suns, woods with shadowing hair 

(For which see Hor. O. 1, 21, 5; 4, 3, 10; 4, 7, 1; Catul. 
4, 10; II. 17, 677; Od. 23, 195; Soph. Ant. 419; Eur. Alces. 
172) 

Then we come to the generation theme, which Swin- 
burne uses, or abuses, with so much enthusiasm. 

No wind over sea blew us hither adrift on thy shore, 
None sowed us by land in thy womb that conceived us and bore. 
But the stroke of the shaft of the sunlight that brought us to birth 
Pierced only and quickened thy furrows to bear us, O Earth. 
With the beams of his love wast thou cloven as with iron or fire, 
And the life in thee yearned for his life and grew great with desire. 
And the hunger and thirst to be wounded and healed with his dart 
Made fruitful the love in thy veins and the depths of thy heart. 
And the showers out of heaven overflowing and liquid with love 
Fulfilled with child of his godhead as rain from above. 
Such desire had ye twain of each other, till molten in one 
Ye might bear and beget of your bodies the fruits of the sun. 
And the trees in their season brought forth and were kindled anew 
By the warmth of the moisture of marriage, the child-bearing dew. 
And the firstlings were fair of the wedlock of heaven and of earth; 
All countries were bounteous with blossom and burgeon of birth, 
Green pastures of grass for all cattle, and life-giving corn; 
But here on thy bosom, here only, the man-child was born. 

But Aeschylus used it before him. See Fr. Danaides. 

Love throbs in holy heaven to wound the earth, 
And love still prompts the land to yearn for bridals; 
The rain that falls in rivers from the sky 
Impregnates earth, and she brings forth for man 
The flocks and herds and life of teeming Ceres. 
The bloom of forests by dews hymeneal 
Is perfected; in all which things I rule. 



106 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

So spoke Aphrodite. 

The chorus closes with a note of admiration for the 
victim. 

But her mouth was a fountain of song, 

And her heart as a citadel strong, 

That guards the heart of the city. 

Fifth Episode 

The messenger enters and describes the sacrifice; the 
throng, the maiden, her offertory, the response of the god, 
the stroke of the knife, the pool of blood, the groans of the 
spectators and the silence of the queen. She 

Groaned not nor spake nor wept, but as a dream 
Floats out of eyes awakening, so past forth 
Ghostlike, a shadow of sorrow, from all sight 
To the inner court and chamber where she sits 
Dumb, till word reach her of this whole day's end. 

In Euripides' Hecuba, 521-582 occurs the sacrifice of 
Polyxena to the shade of Achilles. Talthybius tells the 
story of her death to Hecuba, who is summoned by 
Agamemnon to receive the corpse for burial. This is 
even more spectacular than Swinburne's. All the 
Achaeans throng to see the offering, where the son of 
Achilles is master of ceremonies. He poured drink offer- 
ings and prayed to the ghost of his father, after which he 
drew his sword and signaled to his assistants to seize the 
maid; but she, noticing this spoke thus: 

O Argives, ye which laid our city low, 
Free-willed I die; on my flesh let no man 
Lay hand; unflinching will I yield my neck. 
But by the gods, let me stand free, the while 
Ye slay, that I may die free; for I shame 
Slave to be called in Hades, who am royal. 



Swinburne } s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 107 

Yea, like a great sea roared the host: the king 

Spake to the youths to let the maiden go. 

And they, soon as they heard that last behest 

Of him of chiefest might, drew back their hands. 

And she, when this she heard, her master's word, 

Her vesture grasped, and from the shoulder's height 

Rent it adown her side, down to the waist, 

And bosom showed and breasts, as of a statue, 

Most fair; and bowing to the earth her knee, 

A word, of all words most heroic, spake. 

Lo here O youth, if thou art fain to strike, 

My breast, strike home; but if beneath my neck 

Thou wouldest, here my throat is bared to thee. 

And he, loth and yet fain, for ruth of her, 

Cleaves with the steel the channels of her breath: 

Forth gushed the life-springs, but she, even in death, 

Took chiefest thought decorously to fall, 

Hiding what hidden from men's eyes should be. 

But when she had spent her breath 'neath that death-stroke, 

Each Argive 'gan his task, no man the same. etc. 

Swinburne has done what he would have ridiculed in 
the work of any one else; he has given the maiden too 
much hair. But he has succeeded in investing the picture 
with the requisite horror by drawing that ever-increasing 
pool of blood at the foot of the altar. Euripides, is, as he 
claims, statuesque; but he too spoils his effect by over- 
drawing the feminine touch when the princess is careful, 
even in death, to fall in a becoming posture. Swinburne 
at times approaches the sublimity of Aeschylus, who is 
seldom other than sublime: the bathos and characteristic 
gaucherie of Euripides all too frequently mar his efforts. 
We get two pictures in Swinburne; the foreword of the 
chorus, as it were, which is a reminiscence of the Agamem- 
non, and the sacrifice proper. Quite Aeschylean is: 

They shall muffle her mouth that she cry not or curse them and cover 
her eyes from the sword. 



108 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

They shall fasten her lips as with bit and with bridle, and darken the 

light of her face, 
That the soul of the slayer may not falter, his heart be not molten, his 

hand give not grace. 

In the actual sacrifice, however, these precautions are 
forgotten. In the Hecuba, also, Euripides makes the 
chorus look forward in foreboding to what is going to 
happen. Speaking to Hecuba, it sings: 

For, except they turn and spare, and thy prevalence of prayer 
Redeem thee from bereavement of thy ruin-stricken child, 
Thou must surely live to gaze where a maiden on her face 
On a grave-mound lieth slaughtered, while the darkly-gleaming tide 
Welleth, welleth from the neck which the golden mockeries deck, 
And all her body crimsons in the bubbling horror dyed. 

The chorus now sings to Praxithea, drawing a com- 
parison between her unquestioning submission to the 
decrees of the gods, and her unselfish devotion to her 
country, and Niobe, who was once happiest of the 
daughters of the gods. The chorus has just heard from 
the messenger that the queen has past 

To the inner court and chamber where she sits 
Dumb, till word reach her of this whole day's end. 

Thereupon the chorus draws the comparison of one sitting 
in stone among the Lydian hills. 

Fifth Stasimon 

More hapless born by far 

Beneath some wintrier star, 

One sits in stone among high Lydian snows, 
The tomb of her own woes; 
Yet happiest was once of the daughters of Gods and divine by her sire 

and her lord, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 109 

Ere her tongue was a shaft for the hearts of her sons, for the heart 
of her husband a sword; 
For she, too great of mind, 
Grown through her good things blind, 

With godless lips and fire of her own breath 
Spake all her house to death; 

But thou, no mother unmothered, nor kindled in spirit with pride of 
thy seed, 

Thou hast hallowed thy child for a blameless blood-offering, and ran- 
somed thy race by thy deed. 

For her family see Aes. fr. Niobe 

ol B&av hrixiOTtopoi . . . kovtto) viv k^iTifKov al/xa baifibvoiv 

For the boastful tongue see Ant. 127 

Zeus yap fieyaKrjs yKuxroris Kofxirovs u7repex0c«P« 

Hor. O. 4.6.1 

Dive, quern proles Niobea magnae 
vindicem linguae, Titiosque raptor sensit. 

Antigone compares her own fate with that of Niobe. 
824 ff. 

I have heard in other days how dread a doom befell our Phrygian guest, 
the daughter of Tantalus, on the Sipylian heights; how like clinging ivy, 
the growth of stone subdued her; and the rains fail not, as men tell, 
from her wasting form, nor fails the snow, while beneath her weeping 
lids the tears bedew her bosom; and most like to hers is the fate that 
brings me to my rest. 

Sophocles does not mention her fateful tongue, but 
there is a reference to it in Ovid, Met. 6, 301, ff. 
For the region, see also II. 24, 614. 



110 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Sixth Episode 

The messenger, who has evidently remained on the 
scene during the singing of this short ode, reports now 
the rumor of the death of a threefold crown of maidens; 
fear shakes the city as the winds a wintering tree. In the 
Argonautica Jason and Medea stand like motionless 
trees until blown upon by the blast of Love. And essen- 
tially Greek is the idea that the blood 

Shed of these maidens guiltless fall and fix 
On this man's forehead like a curse that cleaves 
To the unclean soul's inexpiate hunted head 
Whom his own crime tracks hotlier than a hound 
To life's veiled end unsleeping. 

So in Aes. Eum. 246 ff. the Erinyes say: 

For as a hound tracks a wounded fawn, so do we track out by blood and 
its droppings. And with my long toils to wear out a man in the chase 
my heart pants; for every spot of earth has been carefully gone over, 
and across the sea with wingless flight have I come plying my course, 
etc. 

With a reference to the battle that is imminent, the messen- 
ger ceases and the greatest chorus in the play begins. 

Sixth Stasimon 

joy out of woe 

This chorus sets forth the battle fought in the terrified, 
foreboding mind, that still hopes for an escape from 
calamity; it is followed in the succeeding episode by the 
herald's account of the real contest. This is the second 
example of this device; the first being the third stasimon, 
in which the chorus forecasts, as it were, the sacrifice of 
the daughter of the king. It is one of the most magnificent 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 111 

choruses that Swinburne ever wrote, and more nearly 
produces the effects he was constantly striving for; and 
it is about the most thoroughly Aeschylean of his efforts, 
at times fairly outdoing Aeschylus in sweep and majesty of 
phrase, and obscurity of thought. 

We get a note of fear in the very first line, 

111 thoughts breed fear, and fear ill words; but these 
The gods turn from us that have kept their law. 

but there is a ring of fortitude and confidence in things 
human and divine that is not usual with Swinburne, 
whose manner in the face of suffering is usually defiant. 
The chorus is composed of singers, who in this instance 
seer-wise lift up their voices to recount the struggle of 
the forces of the gods jealous for the possession of Athens. 
The first chorus of the Septem begins with the same fear 
motif, but it is rather the terror of distracted women. 

Opkofxat <pofiepa fxeyaX' &xv- 
IxedeXrai ffrparos 

They vacillate between exclamations of fright and 
supplication to the gods; but here we get a clear-eyed 
contemplation of the storm and stress of war. I know of 
nothing else that so fully realizes spiritual agony and 
victory. The classical reminiscences are many. 

Let us lift up the strength of our hearts in song, 
And our souls to the heights of the darkling day. 

In Aes. Sup. 809, the chorus, driven by fear, does likewise: 

tv£e 5' ofupap oipaviau, 
fieXrj 8 toi<rt, XiravA. 

and it is a fear of as desperate fate as may befall the cho- 
rus of Erechtheus. In the latter chorus, too, the fear is 



112 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

assuaged somewhat by patience, as in the case of the 
watchman of the Agamemnon, who on watch was inclined 
to sing or hum a tune, shredding into his hours the song 
to be an antidote for sleep. (Ag. 16 f.) Then follows a 
curious confusion of the metaphor of ship of state and 
ship of life. Aeschylus loved the sea, which was also Swin- 
burne's lifelong passion. Both drew heavily on it for 
metaphors. 

If the wind in our eyes blow blood for spray, 
Be the spirit that breathes in us life more strong 
Though the prow reel round and the helm point wrong, 
And the sharp reefs whiten the shoreward way. 
For the steersman time sits hidden astern 
With dark hand plying the rudder of doom, 
And the surf-smoke under it flies like fume 
As the blast shears off and the oar-blades churn 
The foam of our lives that to death return, 
Blown back as they break to the gulfing gloom. 

Sep. 109 f. 

nvpa 7repi tttoKiv boxv-o\6<pu)v yap avbp&v 
Kax^dfei irvooiis "Apeos bpbptvov. 

There is the usual appeal to the gods: 

O earth, O gods of the land, have ye heart now to see and to hear 
What slays with terror mine eyesight and seals mine ear? 

So in Septem, 101 

irpobwcreis, irayalxQw "Aprjs rav reav ) 
o> xP^^owTjXri^ balpov, C7ri5' eirtoe TroXiv, 

We get a good picture of the Homeric storm cloud in 

As a storm-cloud swollen that comes up from the skirts of the sea, 

By the wind for helmsman to shoreward ferried, 

So black behind them the live storm serried 

Shakes earth with the tramp of its foot and the terror to be. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 113 

II. 4, 275 ff. 

(Even as when a goatherd from a place of outlook seeth a cloud 
coming across the deep before the blast of the west wind; and to him 
being afar off it seemeth ever blacker, even as pitch, as it goeth along 
the deep, and bringeth a great whirlwind, and he shuddereth to see 
it and driveth his flock beneath a cave; even in such wise moved the 
serried battalions of young men, the fosterlings of Zeus, by the side of 
the Aiantes into furious war, battalions dark of line, bristling with 
shields and spears. 

Here follows an appeal to the north wind, the raptor of 
Oreithyia: 

O strong north wind, the pilot of cloud and rain, 

For the gift that we gave thee what gift hast thou given us again? 

O god dark-winged, deep-throated, a terror to forth-faring ships by night, 

What bride-song is this that is blown on the blast of thy breath? 

In Ovid, Met. 6, 690 ft\, Boreas says to Oreithyia: 

vi tristia nubila pello, 
vi freta concutio nodosaque robora verto 
induroque nives et terras grandine pulso. 

What bride song is this that is blown on the blast of thy breath? 
A gift but of grief to thy kinsmen, a song but of death, 
For the bride's folks weeping, and woe for her father, who finds thee 

[against him in fight. 

In the Agamemnon there is a similar play on two meanings 
of the word Krjdos. Wrath, accomplishing its end, sped 
to Ilion this marriage bond, a trouble indeed. 

'IXtco 8k Krj8os opdoivvyLOv 
rehecrcrlippoov nfjvis ffKaaev 

Some of Swinburne's metaphors are very bold, and rather 
confusing. 

Till their corpses have covered and clothed as with raiment the face of 
the sword-ploughed field. 



114 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 
Aechylus had described the sea fairly abloom with corpses. 

bpCjptv AlpOovv irkXayos kiyaiov fc/cpoTs 

Still the appeal is to Boreas, the son of Aurora: 

O son of the rose-red morning, O god twin-born with the day, 

O wind with the young sun waking, and winged for the same wide way, 

Herodotus says Boreas helped the Athenians in the Persian 
wars by wrecking the ships of the enemy. 

The battle is joined in earnest now : 

For now not in word but in deed is the harvest of spears begun. 

So spoke Prometheus after the last warning of Hermes. 
Pro. 1080 

And now comes the deed, no longer the word; 
Kai pr)u epyia Kou/ce-ri pi>6u> 

Aristophanes speaks of the Spartan prisoners fromi 
Sphacteria as a harvest; Eq. 392. 

kclt' aur)p tbo^tv elvat, Ta.WoTpi.ov apdv depos. 
vvv 8k tovs araxvs kKtivovs, ovs katWtv r)yayei>. 

See also II. 19, 221-4 

Sounds are expressed in the classical way; 

Air shudders with shrill spears crossing, and hurtling of wheels that roar. 
Sept. 140 

8opiTLva.KTOs aldijp 8' kTrpaiverai. 
IX. 13, 339 pb-xv tippi&v iyx^XI <Ttv 

SPaXa7yes aaneaiv re kcu e7x«7"i iretppiKviai 

As the grinding of teeth in the jaws of a lion that foam as they gnash 
Is the shriek of the axles that loosen, the shock of the poles that clash. 

Sept. 53 

tn8rjp6(ppo)v yap dvpbs ai>8pela tpXkyuv 
eirvei, \eovToiv us" Apr] 8e8opKoTui> 



Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 115 
Sept. 135 

orofiov apfx&Tj)P 6.fJL<pi ir6\iu nXbo), 
. . . t\a.Koi> 6.£6v(a)P ftpidofjikpuv x^ai. 

Sept. 188 

ore (Tvptyyes eKXa^av kXlrpoxot 

The dense manes darken and glitter, the mouths of the mad steeds 

[champ, 
Their heads flash blind through the battle, and death's foot rings in 

[their tramp. 
Sept. 115 

5td 8k tol yevvwv LTTeloiv Serol 
Kivvpovrai (pavov x&Xtvoi. 

At the sound of the sea's host charging that deafens the roar of the sky's 
Sept. 85 

fipkpti 8'apaxkrov binav vdaros bporvirov 

There is a fine touch from the Prometheus in 

Earth groans from her great rent heart, 

and the hollows of rocks are afraid, 
And the mountains are moved and the valleys 

as waves in a storm-wind swayed. 

Pr. 434 

(log. 8e irovTios kXOSiov 
%vp.-KiTV<j)v, arkva fivdos, 
Ke\aivds"Ai8os vwofipepei pvxos yas 

The chorus closes with a prayer to the sun for light 
and grace. It is answered by the appearance of the 
Athenian herald. The trochaic rhythm is in strong con- 
trast to the very fine anapests of the chorus. 



116 Swinburne 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Seventh Episode 

Praxithea interrupts the kommos of the chorus and 
the herald. Her sentence structure is quite Greek: 

Man, what thy mother bare thee born to say 

Speek; for no word yet wavering on thy lip 

Can wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear. 

The herald begins his account of the battle. 

I have no will to weave too fine or far, 

O queen, the weft of sweet with bitter speech; 

Bright words with darkling; 

Pindar, O. 6, 86 weaves for warriors the changes of his 
song; 

The battle cry is reminiscent of the Persae, 401 ff. 

one man's note 
Tore its way like a trumpet: Charge, make end, 
Charge, halt not, strike; rend up their strength by the roots; 
Strike, break them, make your birthright's promise sure, 
Show your hearts hardier than the fenced land breeds, 
And souls breathed in you from no spirit of earth, 
Sons of the sea's waves; 

And you might have heard the loud shout of many at once, — Sons of 
the Greeks, go, free your country, free your children, your wives, the 
temples of your fathers' gods, and the tombs of your ancestors. Now 
the contest is for them all. 



The battle itself seems more like a contest between 
Hesiodic monsters or Miltonic angels; but Athens is saved 
and Praxithea is content. She prays for death. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 117 

Seventh Stasimon 
the golden chalice of song 

Here follows the song of doubt and foreboding, to be 
very sharply offset by the sudden intervention of Athena. 
The Pindaric note is dominant in the phraseology, but 
the mood is Aeschylean. The chalice of gold, the flower 
of song, the wine of song, the honey of song, are all 
Pindaric; see the famous beginning of the seventh Olym- 
pian, also Olym. 9, 48 
Fr. 166, 
Iliad, 10, 579 

The antithesis between the city redeemed and the 
city polluted with blood is very strong; and because of 
this pollution, the Aeschylean misgiving throws its 
sombre pall over the chorus. The attitude is similar to 
that of the chorus in the Agamemnon, just after the 
return of the king. (988) 

Now I learn with mine own eyes 

Their return, eye- witness- wise; 

Still my soul, self-taught from within, feels rise 

The dirge not sung with the lyre that Erinys cries 

All unable still to clasp 

Hope's fond daring in my grasp. 

Not in vain my bosom broods 

Nor unfulfilled my heart's prophetic moods, 

Heart that beats in eddies stilled 

Only when each is fulfilled. 

Pray I such things farther fall 

Than my hope, unfashioned all. 

The song sits close to the heart, a dark dream that will 
not be spurned away. And the reason is clear: 

In the darkness of earth beneath, in the world without sun, 
The shadows of past things reign; 



118 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Ercchthcus 

And a cry goes up from the ghost of an ill deed done, 
And a curse for a virgin slain. 

Nothing is more Aeschylean than the mindful wrath, for 
sin done, that bides its time for the hour to strike, a fury 
against the transgressors, bringing after-vengeance on 
the deed. Not by sacrifice or libation will one soothe the 
stubborn rage for the sacrifice without lire, i. e., the 
sacrifice of the maiden. Swinburne is keeping close to 
his text now, and in it is not much of Euripides. 

Exodos 
Then comes the deus ex machina; the intervention of 
Athena, quite Euripidean and wholly unsatisfying. The 
enforcement of a new term of life upon Praxithea, when 
her desolation is complete, makes the doom of Althaea 
seem thrice fortunate indeed. But she quickly takes 
courage and speaks up from 'a heart made whole,' and 
takes the proffered blessing. The language of Athena, is, 
of course very overwhelming: 

Hear, men that mourn, and woman without mate, 
Hearken, ye sick of soul with fear, and thou 
Dumb-stricken for thy children; hear ye too, 
Earth, and the glory of heaven, and winds of the air, 
And the most holy heart of the deep sea, 
Late wroth, now full of quiet; hear, thou sun, 
Rolled round with the upper fire of rolling heaven, 
And all the stars returning; hill and streams, 
Springs and fresh fountains, day that seest these deeds, 
Night that shall hide not; 

It is difficult why she should enter here into the spirit of 
"reverent emulation" with Prometheus. 
Cf. Pr. 88 ff. 

<J bios aldrjp nai TaxvirrepoL wvoai, 
TcoraixCyv re irrjyai, ttovt'iuv re Kvp.aru>v 
avi]pLdfj.ou 7eXacr/xa, TranixrJTop re yrj, 
Kal tov TravoTTTrfP kvkXov r)\lov koKoj, 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechthcus 119 

Althaea's reply suggests a metamorphosis. 

never tear 
Shall stain for shame nor groan untune the song 
That as a bird shall spread and fold its wings 
Here in thy praise forever; * * * there is no grief 
Great as the joy to be made one in will 
With him that is the heart and rule of life 
And thee, God born of God; thy name is ours, 
And thy large grace more great than our desire. 

Almost better seems the lament of Hecuba: 

Daughter, I know not on what ills to look, 

So many throng me: if to this I turn, 

That hindereth me : thence summoneth me again 

Another grief, on-ushering ills on ills. 

And now I cannot from my soul blot out 

Thine agony, that I should wail it not. 

The chorus is quick to note the change of mood; and 
forgetting the cry from the ghost of an ill deed done, it 
proceeds to convert the light from the pyres of the dead 
into the light of the dawn of a new day. 



METRE 

Much of Swinburne's fine rhythmical effect is due to 
his use of Greek metrical devices; — to his employment of 
Greek feet, and of Greek license in substitution and 
resolution. Space will permit but few examples. The 
Choriambus 

That it gndures outrage and dolSrous days 
Nor light upon the land | whithgr I go 

She reels as any reed undlr tM wind, 

And cleaves untd thl ground with staggering feet. 

And thy mouth shuddering like a shot bird v 

What shall atone, what heal me, what bring back 
Strength to the foot, light to the face? What herb 
Assuage me? 

He takes Euripidean license in substitutions in the iambic 
line. 

Strike, cease not, arrow on arrow and wound on wound. 

The house is broken, is broken; it shall not stand. 

There is Euripidean" iteration in this line, as in 
Drives wave on wave on wave to west 

and 

Drives day on day on day to doom 

So Eur. Bacchae, 1064 f., where Dionysus bends the tree. 

A soaring pine-shaft by the top he caught, 

And dragged down — down — still down to the dark earth. 

KaTrjyev, rjyev, rjyev eis ivtyw irkbov. 

120 



Swinburne' 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 121 

The following is quite Greek in its rhythm: 

Who shall put a bridle in the mourner's lips to chasten them, 
Or seal up the fountains of his tears for shame 



We meet also the rather unusual example of a word 
being used in the same verse in both emphatic and un- 
emphatic position : 

Earth is the | covering to | hide thee, the | garment of | thee. 

The Greeks and Romans have been criticised for just 
such contrasts in quantity. See Virgil, Aen. 2, 663: 

gnatum ante ora patris, patrem qui 

Ovid, Met. 13, 607 

voliicri mox vera volucris 

and Theoc. 6, 19 

to. iii\ Ka\a KoXd Tr'tipavTai 

In the Atalanta in Calydon and the Erechtheus, 
Swinburne has drawn from the Greek drama in the follow- 
ing ways: 

He has used two Greek plots of Euripides, the Melea- 
ger and the Erechtheus; he has introduced the original 
characters, in so far as they are known, and to re-create 
them he has borrowed all available material from the 
surviving fragments; and to augment the effect of these, 
he has added extracts and ideas borrowed from the entire 
field of Greek poetry. 

His characters are physiologically Aeschylean, but 
psychologically Euripidean. 

Structurally the plays are both Aeschylean. 



122 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

From Homer he borrowed (a) myths, (b) the Review, 
(c) the battle scene, and his narrative style, material for 
which he found in Ovid and Apollodorus. 

The classical reminiscences may be classified as follows: 

Close Translations; 

Atalanta 68 lines 

Erechtheus 41 " 

Greek Passages Used as Themes for Amplification 

Atalanta 73 

Erechtheus 47 " 

Lines That Reveal in One Way or Another Greek Connotation 

Atalanta 1623 " 

Erechtheus 1419 " 

Number of lines in Atalanta 2317 

Number of lines in Erechtheus 1761 



CLASSICAL SUBJECTS 



The following subjects are among those treated with 
more or less elaboration in the two plays: 



Altar 

Animate nature 

Atmosphere 

Ate 

Athens 

Battle scenes 

Bridle 

Babes 

^Characterizations 

Cursing 

Cup of heart, song, etc. 

Catalogue, from Homer, Ovid, 
Apollonius, Apollodorus, and 
the fragments of Euripides' Me- 
leager 

Demeter 

Death, regret for early 

Dreams 

Envy of god 

Earth, Mother 

Eros 

Fates 

Festivals 

Fire 

Fishes 

Flower (Anthos) 

Future 

Fear 

Geography 

Gaming 

Ghosts 

Gods 

Goddesses 



Love 

Law 

Luck 

Lightning 

Lions 

Mind 

Metaphors 

Memory of the dead 

Memory for the dead 

Nightingales 

Navel of Earth 

Nemesis 

Omens 

Opposition of Gods (Earth and 

Ocean; Poseidon and Pallas) 
Pictures 

Piling up of adjectives 
Pain, physical and mental 
Prayer 
Plowshare 
Puns on names 
Quotations 
Rhesis 

Raiment, embroidery, veils, etc. 
Reaping, of life 
Sacrifice, human 
Spring 

Sentimentality 
Serpents 
Spinning 
Sound 
Sea 
Ship of State 



123 



124 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 



Gifts of gods 


Ship of doom 


Gifts of the Hours 


Similes 


Generation 


Sleep eternal 


Hysteria 


Soothsaying 


Hybris 


Stars 


Hades 


Sophistication 


Hair 


Trumpet 


Honey 


Vegetation 


Intellect 


Violets 


Irony 


Wine 


Insolence 


Word, the 


Joy of battle 


Words, Greek, with unusual con- 


Justice 


notation 


Litotes 





BIBLIOGRAPHY 

I have consulted, in addition to the various editions 
of Aeschylus and Euripides, the following authors: 

Edmund Gosse Algernon Charles Swinburne 

Edward Thomas Algernon Charles Swinburne 

G. E. Woodberry Swinburne 

John Drinkwater Swinburne 

F. M. Cornford Thucydides Mythistoricus 

P. Masqueray Euripide et ses idees 

Decharme Euripide et l'esprit de son theatre 

Nestle Euripides 

The English version of passages from Euripides are 
with few exceptions from the translation of A. S. Way; 
that of Sophocles, from the edition of Jebb. 



125 



STRUCTURE 

Atalanta in Calydon, built on the Greek model, may 
be divided as follows: 

Prologue, 11. 1-64. 
Parodos, 11. 65-120. 
First Episode, 11. 121-313. 
First Stasimon, 11. 314-361. 
Second Episode, 11. 362-718. 
Second Stasimon, 11. 719-866. 
Third Episode, 11. 867-1037. 
Third Stasimon, 11. 1038-1204. 
Fourth Episode, 11. 1205-1373. 
Fourth Stasimon, 11. 1374-1468. 
Fifth Episode, 11. 1469-1808. 
Fifth Stasimon, 11. 1809-1855. 
Exodos, 11. 1856-2317. 

The Exodos contains a Kommos, one of the finest in 
English, and as fine as any thing of the sort in the Greek 
drama. 

(For an explanation of these terms se c the Poetics of Aristotle, 
Ch. XII.) 

SWINBURNE'S DEBT TO HOMER 

Atalanta in Calydon belongs to the pre-Homeric 
period, to a time when heroes were very near the gods. 
It was the age of Heracles, Jason, Peleus, and the young 
Gerenian Nestor. Homer casually mentions the story 
of Meleager (Iliad 9, 529 ff.) as an example of the reward 
of the headstrong. The combat with the monster gives 
the play an epic cast. In it Swinburne finds opportunity 
to draw from Homer in more ways than one. He is in fact 
in the same position as Apollonius of Rhodes, who although 

126 



Swinburne s Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 127 

he set his story in a period antedating the Homeric, was 
wholly dependent on Homer for material and method 
of treatment. Swinburne draws from Homer in his set- 
ting, his characters, which are more heroic than those 
generally found in Greek tragedy, in incidents such 
as the review, in many reminiscences, several direct 
references, and numerous quotations. The following 
references will show in part Swinburne's debt to Greek 
Epic. 

Atalanta in Calydon, 1. 

8 Mortal with gentler shafts, Od. 11, 172. 

16 Knees of gods, II. 17, 514. 

26 Earth laughs, II. 19, 362; H. Dem. 14. 

45 Wind-footed, II. 8, 409; H. Aph. 217. 

51 Full-flowered, Od. 14, 353. 

64 Spring, H. Dem. 54. 

70 Lady of light, H. 27, 4. 

78 Sandals, II. 2, 44 et freq. 

104 Nymphs, H. Pan, 2, 19; H. Dion. 26. 

162 Sacrifice— for the story see U. 9, 534 ff. 

166 Rural atmosphere, H. Hermes. 

201 Vain talk, Od. 18, 331. 
362 ff. The review, cf. II. 3, 161 ff. 

434 Hard-hearted, II. 3, 60. 

436 Vine-chapleted, etc. II. 23, 316; H. 15. 

510 Blessed Isles, Od. 4, 563. 

564 Green life, H. Merc. 375. 

659 Supplication, II. 1, 500, 22, 338; 24, 478. 

703 Windy words, II. 4, 355. 

674 For the mental attitude see' II. 1, 167. 

688 Golden hair, II. 1, 197; Od. 15, 133. 

759 Articulate speech, II. 1, 225 and seh. 

855 Tyro. For the story see Od. 11, 235 ff. 

1209 Came clashes of swift hoofs, II. 24, 323. 
1235 fit. List of huntsmen, see the Homeric catalogue. 
1242 ff. Picture of Atalanta; see Od. 6, 102 ff. 

1280 Spear . . . shook and stood fast, II. 21, 69. 



128 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 

1287 Arrow, 11. 4, 125. 

1290 See boar similes in II. 414 ff.; 12, 145 ff. 

1297 And violent sleep, etc. II. 16, 250; 20, 477; 21, 181. 

1304 Sharp rang, etc. II. 4, 504. 

1310 The boar, wounded by Amphiaraus, cries like Aros, wounded in 

battle before Troy, II. 5, 860. 
2042 Atalanta's wish is like that of Helen, II. 6, 345. Cf. Tennyson, in! 

"Dream of Fair Women." 
2202 Farewell, Od. 11,488. 

REMINISCENCES FROM THE GREEK 
DRAMATISTS 

AESCHYLUS 

The theme of the play is given in Aesch. Choe. 602-612. 

1 Fr. 388. 

5 A light for dead men. Sept. 620 IT. 

10 Favorable and fair, Ag. 143; Sup. 149. 

14 Edge of spears, Eum. 766. 

17 O fair-faced sun, Ag. 508. 

2F< Let earth laugh and the sea, Pro. 90. 

28 Foam, Eum. 183; 

34 Fountain heads, Pro. 89. 

60 Shorn locks, Choe. 180; 229. 

68 Nightingale, Ag. 1142. 

106 Fleet-foot kid, Eum. Ill; fr. 382. 
105-8 fr. 168. 

119 Fr. 39. 

148 Retribution, Pro. 8. 

170 Sacrifice neglected, Fr. 161. 

177 Justice, Eum. 702; Sup. 814; Choe. 671. 

201 Witless, Pro. 385. 

208 ff. Love the destroyer, Ag. 743; Choe. 600. 

222 Weeping, Choe. 81; Ag. 889. 

228 Per. 539. 

261 Picture of warrior. Sept. 380 ff. 

300 Like Themis in Pro. 
370 Sept. 543. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erecktheus 1 2 ( ) 

421 Ag. 725. 

436 Sept. 435. 

460 Change, Pro. 310. 

466 ff. Integer vitae, Eum. 490; Pro. 536. 

564 Green youth, Sup. 663. 

665 ff. Mother love, Choe. 749-60. 

715 Sup. 1049. 

889 Sup. 1030. 

1043 Pro. 310 ff. 

1153 Ag. 369. 

1175 Prometheus to Zeus, in Euripidean manner; Ag. 146; 383. 
1205 ff. Flowers at the altar, Ag. 86. 

1208 Pro. 533. 

1893 That is my son, Ag. 1404. 

2043 Pro. 135. 

2046 Per. 362. 

2054 Spear shaft broken, Ag. 65. 

2075 Choe. 345. 

2136 Choe. 345. 

2215 Sowing Sept. 753. Cf. Shak. Ant. and Cleo. 2, 2. 

2229 Per. 840. 

REMINISCENCES FROM SOPHOCLES 

1 Elec. 626. 

17 Fair-faced sun, Trach. 94. 

38 Virgin Artemis, Elec. 1238. 

50 Aetolian land, Elec. 704. 

52 Won from the river, Trach. 9 ff. 

59 Hair, Ajax 1174 and Jebb's note. 

72 Artemis, O. R. 206. 

104 Pan, Bacchus, Maenads, Or. R. 211; 1100; Ant. 1153. 

112 Bacchanal, O. C. 674; Trach. 218. 

166 Flocks, crops, Fr. 4626, 1. 

208 Love, Ant. 787. 

353 Ajax, 1203. 

466 ff. Child vs. parent, Ant. 639. 

721 Relentless time, O. R. 341. 

929 Ant. 1087. 



130 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

930 Just as Jocasta stops the wrangling of Oedipus and Creon. 
1200 Ajax, 125 ff. 
1208 Silence, Ant. 1347 ff. 

1374 ff. For the general idea of this chorus see O. C. 668 ff. 
1469 Brothers, Ant. 668. 
1809-55 Love the destroyer, Ant. 944 ft". 
2031 The flesh of my body is molten, Trach. 1055. 
2122 Bear me away, Trach. 953. 
2215 Sowing, O. T. 1497; 1211; 1257. 

REMINISCENCES FROM EURIPIDES 

Theme of play from the fragment of the Meleager, 
20 (537). 

"Treat well the living; every man, when dead 
Is dust and shadow, naught to nothing fled." 

17 Herac. 748. 

38 Ion 466. 

122 Pure lips, Cyc. 558. 

148 Patient of the gods, Hel. 252; Fr. 1076. 

161 Small praise, Iph. Tau. 386. 

166 Grain, Fr. Hyps. 458. 

208 Love, .Med. 320; Tro. 982. 

210 Med. 330. 

216 Med. 900. 

222 Hip. 375. 

261 Picture, Rhe. 305. 

380 Fr. Meleager. 

395 Leda, Fr. Meleager. 

429 Telamon, Fr. Meleager. 

436 Ancaeus, Fr. Meleager, 554, 5. 

444 Fr. Meleager, 534, 7. 

592 Elec. 432. 

624 Medea 928. 

682 Medea 920. 

709 Erech. Fr. 570. 

737 Fr. 433. 

810 Hecuba. 

838 Omnipresent love. Hip. 449; 1272. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 131 

929 Woman playing the man's part, Fr. Meleager. 

930 Iph. Aul. 380. 
942 Med. 366. 

1010 Hysteria, Bacchae. 

1080 Euripides sent them. 

1115 Against the gods, Hip. 1415. 

1374 Peace, Hip. 208; Bacch. 71, 106. 

1145 Med. 1020. 

1210 Bacch. 178. 

1246 Bacch. 621. 

1516 Alces. 147; Iph. Aul. 441. 

1734 Med. 1013. 

1781 Med. 1013. 

1806 Bacch. 590. 

1830 Heracl. 608. 

1945 Med. 1021; Phoen. 1429. 

2004 Med. 1206. 

2005 Alces. 141. 
2009 Alces. 141. 
2027 Hip. 1350. 
2037 Hip. 1391. 
2117 Med. 134. 
2182 Hip. 1378. 
2188 Hip. 1364 

2202 Salute me, Fr. 537; 536. 

REMINISCENCES FROM PINDAR 

35 Achelous, Fr. 249 (153). 

46 Wind-footed, N. 1. 6. 

47 Well wooded, O. 8. 9. 
51 Full flowered, O. 13, 17. 

88-95 Spring, Fr. 75 (45) P. 4, 114. 

112 0.2,30. 

115 Bright breast, P. 4, 8. 

119 Wolf, P. 2, 84. 

124 Honey, P. 9, 63. 

161 Praise, O. 9, 56: 1, 52. 

443 Unsandaled, P. 4, 96. 



132 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

466 ff. Blessed Isles, O. 2, 61-85; Dirges, fr. 129, 130 (95); 131 (96): 

137 (102). 
564 Flower of life, P. 4, 158. 
688 Yellow hair, P. 2, 16. 
1424 Hid the limbs of Iamos, O. 6, 84. 

REMINISCENCES FROM ARISTOPHANES 

68 Nightingale, Av. 676; 212. 
104 Pan, Av. 1098. 

REMINISCENCES FROM OTHER GREEK 
WRITERS 



727 ff. Theog. 211 ff. 
1065 Pandora. 
1070 Works, 90. 

2110 320. 



HESIOD 



MOSCHUS 



SAPPHO 
1391 Pale as grass or latter flowers, 2, 14. 

CALLIMACHUS 

45 Art. 215. 

THEOGNIS 
26 Earth laughs, 9. 
320 Pandora, 500. 

REMINISCENCES FROM LATIN WRITERS 
OVID 
4 Diva triformis, Met. 7, 94. 

Ovid contains the whole story of the Calydonian boar. 
See Met. 6, 424 ff. 

HORACE 

4 Diva triformis, O. 3, 22, 4. 
65 Hounds of spring, O. 4, 7, 9. Ver proterit aestas. 



Swinburne* 's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 133 

67 Lisp of leaves, 0. L, 23, 5 Nam seu mobilibus vepris inhorruit 

ad ventum foliis. 

68 Brown bright Nightingale, O. 4, 12, 5. 
98 Grass, Ep. 2, 22. 

108 O. 1, 9, 18. 

170 Sacrifice, O. 3, 23, 20. 

594 Hewn pine, O. 1, 14, 11. 

LUCRETIUS 
128 Seasons, 5, 737. 
719 ff. 4, 1040 to end. 
752 1, 1-8. 
758 Love, 1, 10 ff. 
2215 Sowing, 4, 1272. 

TIBULLUS 
170 3, 4, 10. 

CATULLUS 
721 Nobis, cum semel occidit lux. 

ERECHTHEUS 
A TRAGEDY 

STRUCTURE 

1 Prologue 1- 94 

2 Parodos 95-238 

3 First Episode 239- 348 

4 First Stasimon 349- 360 

5 Second Episode 361- 554 

6 Second Stasimon 555- 640 

7 Third Episode 641-753 

8 Third Stasimon 754-889 

9 Fourth Episode 890-1074 

10 Fourth Stasimon 1075-1190 

11 Fifth Episode 1191-1240 

12 Fifth Stasimon 1241-1251 

13 Sixth Episode 1253-1282 

14 Sixth Stasimon 1283-1483 

15 Seventh Episode 1484-1623 

16 Seventh Stasimon 1624-1643 

17 Exodos 1644-1760 



134 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

CLASSICAL REMINISCENCES IN THE 
ERECHTHEUS 

FROM HOMER 

7 Hymn to Aphrodite, 317; II. 14, 239; II. 1, 511; 21, 33. 

10 II. 2, 586 ft*. 4, 478; H. Cer. 16S. 

21 II. 1, 64. 

38 Od. 15, 480. 

113 11.4,248. 

114 Homeric otuoin ttovtco 
384 II. 1, 225; 3, 180. 
396 Od. 4, 399. 
473 II. 15, 27; 15, 34. 
475 II. 11, 67 ft*.; II. 19,221 ft". 
646 11.3,151. 
679 II. 1, 201. 
711 ft". Another version of Atalanta 16. 

1149 II. 17, 677; Od. 23, 195. 

1248 ft*. II. 24, 614. 

1312 ft. II. 4, 275 IT. 

1340 11. 19,221 It. 

1349 II. 13, 399. 

1626 11. 10, 679. 

CLASSICAL REMINISCENCES FROM THE 
GREEK TRAGEDIANS 

AESCHYLUS 

1 Pro. 90. 
7 Sept. 477. 
13 ff. Pro. 462 If.; Sept. 393. 

29 Eum. 190. 

30 Pro. 91. 
38 Per. 576. 

44 Sept. 64, 1077. 

52 ff. Pro. 89 ft*.; Ag. 681 ft". 

57 Cf. 174; Ag. 151,207 IT. 
138 Per. 241. 
159 Eum. 166. 



Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 135 

312 Ag. 192. 

335 ff. Bright god's (Phoibos) — speaks askance and darkling (Loxias) 
but his name hath in it slaying and ruin (Apollo) Ag. 1080. 

365 Ag. 1178; Per. 159. 

384 Per. 206. 

475 ff. Sup. 637. 

479 Pro. 1015. 

646 Ag. 56. 

693 Sept. 414. 

725 ff. Ag. 1065 ff. 

778 f. Sup. 524 ff. Cf. Athens "King of kings, holv of holies, blessed 
god." 

818 ff. Ag. 227 ff. 

866 For similar pun see Ag. 681 ff. 
1164 f. Fr. Danaides, 38 o///3pos 8' air' evvcuvros ovpavov irtakv envae 

ycuav. 
1168 Fr. Danaides, SeySpoms &pa 8'£k i>oti£ovtos ■ya.p.ov reXeios karri. 
1225 ff. Ag. 239 ff. 

1242 ff. Er. Niobe 157 ol deQv ayxiviropoi, k. t. X. 
1274 ff. Eum. 246 f. 
1284 f. Sept. 78. 
1286 f. Sup. 809; Ag. 16 f. 
1288 ff. Sept. 109 ff. 
1304 f. Sept. 101. 
1311 Sept. 140. 

1324 ff. For similar word play see Ag. 699. 
1333 Ag. 659. 

349 Sept. 140. 
1350 f. Sept. 53, 135, 188. 
1357 Sept. 85. 
1461 Ag. 1390 ff. 
1518-30 Per. 401-7. 
1641 ff. Ag. 100, 214, 224, 236. 
1647 ff. Pro. 88 ff. 
1720 Per. 242. 

FROM SOPHOCLES 

13 Antig. 477. 

25 xAntig. 122. Cf. Tennyson, Oenone. 

"Troas, and- Ilium's columned citadel, 
The crown of Troas." 



136 Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon and Erechtheus 

Swinburne uses the same figure in 82 and 125. 
30 f. Antig. 1065. 
146 O. C. 701. 

350 Elec. 1078. Cf. Atalanta 357. 
863 Antig. 806; Ajax, 857. 
981-4 Fr. Oreithuia virep re irovrov. k. t. X. 
1075 ff. The chorus addresses Antigone in the same manner. Antig. 

817 ff. 
1149 Antig. 419. 
1242 ff. Antig. 824tT. 
1750 Antig. 834. 

FROM EURIPIDES 
12 Bacch. 133. 
497-503 Fr. Erechtheus 46 oW W tX&as. *. t. X. 
518-30 Fr. Erechtheus 32 /cai p.i\v dav6vT&. k. t. X. 
869 Iph. Aul. 1276 ff. 
881 ff. Iph. Aul. 1502. 
884 ff. Iph. Aul. 1397 ff. 
887 ff. Iph. Aul. 1440. 
1149 Alces. 172. 
1212 ff. Iph. Aul. 1552 ff. 

FROM PINDAR 



18. 



12 


Nem. 6, 45. 


16 


Pyth. 10, 65. 


25 


01. 8, 32. 


125 


Fr. 47; Fr. 75,7; 75, 


146 


01. 3, 13. 


159 


Nem. 7, 33. 


165 


01. 7, 36; Fr. 34, 9. 


1461 


Nem. 378. 


1488 


01. 6, 86; Nem. 4, 94 


1624 


01.7, Iff.; 9, 43. 


1626 


Fr. 166. 


1627 


Pyth. 4, 193. 


1641 ff. Fr. 120; 01. 9, 33. 



FROM ARISTOPHANES 



125 Equit. 1329; Achar. 636 f. 
641 f. Achar. 181. 



Siv inhume } s A talanta in Calydo n and Erechtheus 137 

FROM APOLLONIUS OF RHODES 
1254 Arg. 3,966 ff. 

FROM OVID 

111 Met. 1, 22. 

199 For the story see Met. 6, 683 ff. 

215 For the story see Met. 6, 661 ff. 

618 ff. Met. 6, 683-710. 
1242 ff. Met. 6,301 ff. 
1322 Met. 6,690 f. 

FROM HORACE 
38 O. 1, 2, 7. 

Ill ff. O. 1,3, 21. 

475 ff. O. 4, 14, 31. 

693 f. 0.2,1,6. 

736 ff. O. 1, 21, 6 ff. 

754 O. 1, 24, 1 f. 
1149 O. 1, 21, 5; 4, 3, 10; 4, 7, 1. 
1242 ff. 0.4,6,1. 

FROM CATULLUS 

475 ff. 63, 354 ff. 
1149 4, 10. 



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